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T- •«. 






' or 





















• • ^ » « • • • 


• • • 

.. . •* 
- •• ' 

• • • • ,• • 

• 4 « • • 

* • • • . • • 

• • • • 

• • • • • 

• » • 'm. 





• * 


Swift's Epistolary Correspondence. 

Letter to Dr Sheridan, 


Mrs Pratt, 


Lord Carteret, 


Dr Sheridan, 


the same, 


Lord Carterely 


Rev. Mr WorraU, 


from Lord Bolingbroke, 


the Earl of Oxford, 


to Mr Worrall, 


from the Earl of Oxford, 


to Mr Worrall, 


from Mr Rpchfort, 


to Dr Sheridan, 


from Mr Pope, 


to Dr Sheridan, 


the same. 

• * * 


to Mr Pope, 


from Mr Pope, 


Dr Arbuthnot, 


the Earl of Oxford, 


to Mr Pope, 


Dr Stopford, 

• 4 


from Mr Pope and Lord Bolingbroke, 


the Duchess of Hamilton, 


to Lord Palmerston, 


from Lord Palmerston, . 


to the same. 

. 63 

from Dr Arbuthnot, 





toMrWorrall, . . , . 66 

from the Earl of Peterborow, 


to the same. 


Dr Sheridan, 


Mr WorraU, 


Dr Stopford, 


from Lord Bolingbroke, 


to Dr Sheridan, 


Mr Pope, 


Mr WorraU, . 


the same. 


from Mr Pope, 


to Mrs Howai^d, 


fiwn Mr Pope, ' 

1 i 


Mr Pultoiej, 

1 i 


Mr Gay, 


Dr Arbuthnot, 


Lord Bolingbroke, 


Mr Gay, 

. 102 

Dr Arbuthnot, 


Mr Pope, . • , 

. 109 

Mrs Howard, 

. 112 

to Mrs Howard, 


Mr Pope, 

. 116 

from Mr Gay, 

. 118 

the Earl of Peterborough, 

. 121 

to Mr Pope, 

. 124 

Mrs Howard, 

. 126 

frt>m Lady Bolingbroke, 

. 127 

the same, 

. 129 

to Mrs Howard, 

. 130 

frt>m Lord Bolingbroke, 

. 132 

Mr Gay, 

. 133 

Mr Pope, 

. 135 

to Mr Wallis, 

. 137 

Mr Pope to W. Fortescue, Es^ 


Dr Sheridan, 


from Lord Bolingbroke, 


to Archbishop King, 

. 141 

from the Prince of LUiputy 


Monsieur Voltaire, 

. 145 

the same. 

. 146 

to Dr Sheridan, 

. 147 



Litter from Lord Bolingbroke, 

the same, » 

the same, 
to Dr Sheridan, 

horn M L'Abbe.des FontauieSi 
to M. L'Abbe des Fontaines, 
Mrs Howard, 
Mrs Martha Blount, 
from Lord QoUagbrokt, 

Mr Pufteney to Mr Pope, 
Chevalier Ramsay, 
Mrs Howard, 
to Dr Sheridan, 
Mrs Howard^ 
the same, 
Dr Sheridan, 
the same, 
Mr Pope to Dr Sheridan, 
from Mrs Howard, 
to Mr Worrall, 

Mrs Howard, . » 

from Mr Pope, 
to Mr Pope, 
from the Earl of Oxford, 

Mr Gay and Mr Pope, 
to Mr Pope, 
Mr Gay, 
from Dr Arbuthnot, 
Monsieur Voltaire, 
the same, 
to Mrs Moore, 

Lord Carteret, 
from Bolingbroke and Pope, 

Mr Gay, • 

to Mrs Martha Blount, 
from Mr Gay, 
Mr Pope, 

Mrs Martha Blount, 
to Mr Pope, 

Lord Carteret, 
from Mr Gray, 
to Mr Pope, 
from Mr Pope, • 

. i35 

















hotter from Mr Gay, • ^ • « 


to Mr Pope, . . . . 


Dr Sheridan^ . . • . 


the same, • • • « 


Mr Pope to Dr Sheridaii^ 


to Mr Worrall, . . . . 


from Mr Pope, . . • . 


to the Reverend Mr Wallis^ 


Dr Sheridan to Lord Mountcashel, 4 


from Mr Gay, . . ' . 


to Mr Worrall, . . . , 


the same, • • • 


the same, . . . < 


Mr Pope, . . . . 


the same, . . . . 


from Francis Geogeghan, Esq. 


William Flower, Esq. 


Mr Gay, • * . < 


to Mr Gay, . . . . 


from Dr Arbuthnot, . . • . 


to Lord Bolingbroke, 


from a Quaker in Philadelphia, 


Lady Johnson, . . • . 


to Lord Bolingbroke, 


from the Chevalier Ramsay, 


Dr Arbuthnot, 


the same, . . • . 


from Lady Catherine Jones, 


to Mr Pope, . • • . 


from Lord Bolingbroke, 


Mr Pope, , . . 4 


to Mr Pope, . . • . 


Lord Bolingbroke, 


from Mr Gay, . • • . 


Lord Bolingbroke, 


Mr Pope, . . . . 


to a certain Esquire, 


from Lord Bathurst, 


Mr Gay, . . . . 

Earl of Oxford, 



Mr Gay, • . • . 


Mr Fope and Lord Bolbgbroke, 
to Reverend Mr Blachford, 



Lady Worsley, . . . 


Letter from Lord Bathurat, 
Mr Gay, 
Earl of Oxford, 
Lord Bathurat, 
Lady Betty Gennwn, , . 

Mr Gay, 
lo Mr Gay, 

Lord Chesterfield, 
from Dr Arbuthoot, 

lo Mr Gay, .... 

the Duchess, . 

the Countesi of Suffolk, 
from Mr Gay, 

Lord Ctiegterfield, 
Lady Elizabeth Germaiii, 
to Mrs Wbitcway, 
Lady Santry, 
Earl of Chesterfield, 
from Lord Bollngbroke, 
Mr Pulteney, 
Lady Elizabeth Gennain, 
Mr Gay, 

Lord Uolingbroke and Mr P(^, 
the same, 
to Mr Gay, 
from Mr Gay, 

Lord BathurM, 
Mr Gay, 
to Venlmo, . . . 

from Lady Betty Germaine, 
to Mr Pope, 

the Queen, ... 

MfGay, . . . . _ 

from tlie Duchess of Queensberry and Mr Gay, 
to Mr Pope, 

the Countess of Suffolk, 
from Lord BoliDgbroke, 
to Mr Gay and the Duchess of Queensbeny, 
from Lady Betty Germain, 
to Mr Gay and the Duchess of Queensberry, 
from the Cuunte!<s of Suffolk, 
to Sir Charles Wogan, 
Mr Gay and Ducbeaa of Queensberry, 




Letter to the Countess of Suffolk, . . . 448 

from Lady Betty Germaine, • • « 452 

Mr Gajand the Dukeof Queensberry, . 454 

Mr Gay uid Mr Pope, . 456 

r **i 5. 


♦ ^ 






% '-■•*=. 










■* • 



V ■ 












i> ■, 







# « 






' r;^ 



*» • 

4 •- 

<*> "t'^' 



* '^- . 

FROM JANUARY 1724-5 TO JANUARY 173U2. «fr ' 


Jan. 25, 1724-5. 

I HAVE a packet of letters, which I intended to 
send by Molly, who has been stop{ied three days 
by the bad weather; but now I will send them by 
the post to-morrow to Kells, and enclosed to Mr 
Tickell there is one to you, and one to James Stop- 

I can do no work this terrU>te weather ; which 
has, put us all seventy times out of patience. I have 
been deaf nine days, and am now pretty well reco- 
vered again. 

Pray desire Mr Stanton and Worral tQ continue 
giving themselves some trouble with Mr Pratt ; but 
let it succeed or not, 1 hope I shall be easy. 

Mrs Johnson swears it will rain till Michaelmas. 
She is so pleased with her pick-axe, that she wears 



* Written from Quilca, Dr Sheridan's country house, where 
Swift resided f(# some time. See his Terses upon it, beginning 

^* Let me thy properties eiq;>huo.''^Vol« xw. p. ^10. 




it fasti^ned to her girdle on her left side, in balance 
with her watch. The lake is strangely overflown,* 
and we are desperate about turf, being forced to buy 
it three miles off: and Mrs Johnson (God help her !) 
gives you many a curse. Your mason is come, but 
cannot yet work uposr yotar garden. Neither can I 
agree with him about the great wall. For the rest, 
ijMle^he letter you will have on Monday, if Mr 
Tickell uses you well. 

The news of this country is, that the maid you 
sent down, John Farelly's sister, is married; but 
the portion and settlement are yet a secret. The 
cows here never give milk on Midsummer eve. 

You would wonder what carking and caring 
there is among us for small beer and lean mutton, 
and starved lamb, and stopping gaps, and driving 
cattle from the com. In that we are sJl-to-be-Din- 

The ladies' room smokes ; the rain drops from the 
skies into the kitchen ; our servants eat and drink 
like the devil, and pray for rain, which entertains 
them at cards and «leep ; which are much lighter 
than spades, sledges, and crows. Their maxim is, 

Eat like a Turk, 

Sleep like a dormouse ; 
Be last at work, 

At yictuab foremost. 

Which is all at present; hoping you and your good 
family are well, as we are all at this present writ- 
ing, etc. 

Robin has just carried out a load of bread an(| 


* This should be ^ overflotDcdy' as OTerflown is the participle 
•f the Terb to oTerflj." 

I- 'if « % 






cold meat for break&st; this is their way ; but now 
a cloud hangs over them, for fear it should hold up, 
and the clouds blow off. ' 

I write on till Molly comes in for the letter. O, 
what a draggletail will she be before she gets to 
Dublin ! I wish she may not happen to fall upon 
her back by the way. 

I affirm against Aristotle, that cold and rain con- 
g^gate homogenes, for they gather together you 
and your crew, at whist, punch, and claret. Hag- 
py weather for Mrs Maul, Betty, and Stopford, and 
all true lovers of cards and laziness. 


Far from oar debtors. 

No Dablin letters, ^ 

Not seen by oar betters. 


A companion with news, 

A great want of shoes ; 

Eat lean meat, or choose ; 

A charch without pews. 

Oar horses astiaj, 

No straw,, oats, or hay ; 

December in Maj, ^:- 

Oar boys ran away. 

All serrants at play.- 

Molly sends for the letter. 

♦SeeVoLXV.p. lia 







X March 18, 1724-5. 

Mrs Fitzmaurice did the unkindest thing she 
could imagine : she sends an open note by a ser- 
vant (for she was too much a prude to write roe a 
letter,) desiring that the Dean oi St Patrick's should 
inquire for one Howard, masler of a ship, who had 
brought over a screen to him, the said dean, from 
Mrs Pratt. Away I ran to the customhouse, where 
they told me the ship was expected every day : but 
the god of winds, in confederacy with Mrs Fitzmau- 
rice to teaze me, kept the ship at least a month 
longer, and left me miserable in a state of impa- 
tience, between hope and fear, worse than a lady 
who is in pain that her clothes will not be ready 
against thf birth-day. I will not move your good 
nature, by representing how many restless nights 
and days I have passed, with what dreams my sleep 
hath been disturbed, where I sometimes saw the 
^ ship sinking, my screen floating in. the sea, and the 
mermaids struggling which of them should get it 
for her own apartment. A|. last Mr Medlycott, 
whose heart inclines him to pity the distressed, gave 
me notice of its safe arrival : he interposed his au- 
thority, and, overruling th^ tedious forms of the 
customhouse, sent my screen to the deanery, where 
it was immediately. x>pened, on Tuesday the I6th 
instant, i^hree minutes seven seconds after four 
o'clock in the afternoon, ^the day being fair, bpt 

t * 






somewhat windy, the sun in Aries, and the taioon 
within thirty-ninet hours eight seconds' and a half of . , 
being full ; all which I had, by consulting Ptolemy, 
found to be fortunate incidents, prognosticating that, . 
with due care, my screen will escape the mops of -^ 
the housemaid, and the greasy hands of the foot- 

At the opening the screen just after dinner, some 
company of both sexes were present : the ladies 
were full of malice, and the men of envy, while I 
remained very affectedly calm. But all agreed, that 
nothing showed a better judgment, than to know 
how to make a proper present, and that no present 
could be more judiciously chosen ; for no man in 
this kingdom wanted a screen so much as myself, 
and besides, since I had left the world, it was very 
kind to send T\ie World to me. However, one 
of the ladies affirmed, " Thiit your gift was an open 
reflection upon my age ; that she had made the same * 
present some time a^ to her grandfather ; and that 
she could not imagme how any of her sex- would 
send a screen to a 'gentleman, without a design to 
insinuate, that he was absolutely un homMc sans^con- 
sequenced' For my own part, I confess, I never 
expected to be sheltered by the world, when i have 
been so long endeavouring to shelter myself from 


See how ill you bestow your favour, where you 
meet with nothing but complaints and reproaches^ 
instead of acknowledgments, for thinking, in the 
inldst of courts and diversions, upon an absent and 
insignificant man, buried in obscurity : but I know^ 
it is .as hard to give thanks as to take them ; there- 
^ fore I shall say no more, than that I receive your 
acceptable present, just as I am sure you desire I 
^ould. Though I cannot sit uiider my own vine. 


•fi 1} 


or my own fig-tree, yet I will sit under my own 
screen, and bless the giver; but I cannot pro- 
mise it will add one jot t6 the love and esteem I 
have for you, because it is impossible for me to be 
more than I have always been, and shall ever con- 

Your most obedient and obliged servant, 

JoN. SwiPT. 

I just observe, that the two celestial maps are 
placed at the bottom, within two inches of the 
ground; which is the most fashionable circum- 
stance in the whole work. 

I sometimes dine in a third place with your stoic 
Mr Pratt ; and find he continues in health, but of 
late very busy, and a courtier. 

I desire to present my most humble service to my 
Lady Saville. 

Mr Fitzmaurice dines temperately at a tavern ; 
and sometimes with clergymen, for want of better 

Mr Medlycott dines with me every Sunday, and 
goes to church like any thing. 

Mrs Fitzmaurice is left desolate ; I reckoned but 
fifteen ladies and five gentlemen the other night in 
her play-room, and I condoled with her upon it. It 
is thought she will fall out with my Lady Carteret, 
for drawing away her company ; bUt at present they 
are very great, as I find by consulting them both. 

I think you are acquainted with Lady Worseley ; 
if so, tell her how angry I am at her not coming to 
Ireland as I expected, and was told she was actually 
landed ; whereupon, being at that time confined by 
a deafness, I writ her a most cavalier letter, which, 
being brought back, 1 tore in a rage. 






Miss Carteret is every day getting new magazines 
of arms, to destroy all England upon her return 


Deanerj.House, April 17, 1725* 

My Lord, 

I HAVE been so long afflicted with a deafness, 
and at present with a giddiness in my head (both 
old distempers) that I have not been able to attend 
your excellency and my Lady Carteret, as my in- 
clination and duty oblige me ; and I am now has- 
tening into the country, to try what exercise and 
better air will do toward my recovery. Not know- 
ing how long I may be absent, or how soon you 
may think fit to leave this kingdom, I take this oc- 
casion of returning your excellency and my Lady 
Carteret, my most humble acknowledgments for 
your great civilities toward me, which I wish it 
were in my power to deserve. 

I have only one humble request to make to your 
excellency, which I had in my heart ever since you 
were nominated lord-lieutenant ; and it is in favour 
of Mr Sheridan. I beg you will take your time for 
bestowing on him some church living, to the value 
of one hundred and fifty pounds per annum. He is 

% " 



* In consequeooe of thu letter, Dr Sheridan was promoted to 
a liTing in the south of Irelandj by Lord Carteret, which he af . 
terwards exchanged for that of Dutaboyne, as being nearer his 
little property of Quilca. 




I ■ 




» ' 



agreed on all hands to have done more pnblic ser- 
< ' vice, by many degrees, in the education of lads, than 
any five of his vocation ; and has mach more learn* 
ing than usually falls to the share of those who pro- 
^ - fess teaching, being perfectly skilled in the, Greek 
as well as Latin tongue, and acquainted with all the 
ancient writers, in poetry, philosophy, and history. 
He is a man of good sense, modesty, and virtue. 
His greatest fault is a wife and four children ; for 
which there is no excuse, but that a wife is thought 
necessary to a schoolmaster. His constitution is so w. 
weak, that, in a few years, he must give up his -^ 
business ; and probably must starve, without some 
preferment, for which he is an ill solicitor. My 
Lord Bishop of Elphin has promised to recommend 
this request to your excellency. And I hope you 
will please to believe that it proceeds wholly from 
justice and humanity, for he is neither a dependant 
nor relation of mine. 

I humbly take my leave ; and remain with the 
utmost respect, my lord, &c. 


Qnilca, Jane 28, 1735. 

You run out of your time so merrily, that you 
are forced to anticipate it like a young heir, that 
spends his fortune faster than it comes in ; for your 
letter is dated to-morrow, June 29, and God knows 
when it was writ, or what Saturday you mean ; but 
I suppose it is the next, and therefore your own' 
majTe, and Dr Swift's horse or inare, or some other 






* I 

. horse or mare, with your own mare aforesaid, shall 
set out on Wednesday next, which will be June 30, * 
and so they will have two ni]ghts rest, if you begin 
your journey on Saturday. You are an unlucky ^ 

devil, to get a living * the furthest in the kingdom 
from Quilca-t '* i^ ^^ worth two hundred pound 
a-year, my lord-lieutenant has but barely kept his 
word, for* the other fifty must go in a curate and vi- 

^ sitation charges, and poxes, proxies I mean. If you 
are under the Bishop of Cork, ^ he if a capricious j^ 

.'.^ gentleman ; but you must flatter him' monstrously ^ 4 
upon his learning and his writings ; that you have 
read his book against Toland a hundred times, and 
his sermons (if he has printed any) have been always 
your model, &c. Be not disappointed if your liv- 
ing does not answer the sum. Gret letters of recom- 
mendation to the bishop and principal clergy, and 
to your neighbouring parson or parsons particularly. 

^ 1 often advised you to ^et some knowledge of tithes 
and church livings. You must learn the extent of ' 

your parish, the general quantity of arable land and 
pasture in your parish, the common rate of tithes 
for an acre of the several sorts of corn, and of fleeces , 
and lambs, and to see whether you have any glebe. 
Pray act like a man of this world. 1 doubt, being 
so far off*, you must not let your living as I do, to 
the several farmers, but to one man : but by all 
means do not let il for more than one year, till you 
are surely apprised of the rea^,worth : and even then 

■•\ r 


* In the county of Cork.^-H. 

\ This an^ the foUosi iiig letter of adTice to Sh^dan, upon his 
prefennept, is fraught with the JDean's acute knowi^ge of the 
world. ' ' -« 

X Dr P^r Brown..^H. 




V . 








^ never let it for above three. Pray take my advice 

t- for once, and be very busy, while you are there. It 
is one good circumstance that you got such a living 
in a convenient time, and just when tithes are fit to 
be let ; only wool and lamb are due in spring, or 
perhaps belong to the late incumbent. You may 
learn all on the spot, and your neighbouring parsons 
may be very useful, if they please, but do not let 
them be your tenants. Advise with Archdeacon 
Wall, but do not follow him in all things. Take 
care of the principal squire or squires, they will all 
tell you the worst of your living ; so will the proc- 
tors and tithe-jobbers ; but you will pick out truth 
from among them. Pray show yourself a man of 
abilities. After all I am but a weak brother my- 
self ; perhaps some clergy in Dublin, who know that ^ 
country, will further inform you. Mr Townshend ' 
of Cork will do you any good offices on my account, 
without any letter. Take the oaths heartily, * and' 
remember that party was not made for depending 
puppies. I forgot one principal thing, to take care 
of going regularly through all the forms of oaths 
and inductions ; for the least wrong step will put 
you to the trouble of repassing your patent, or void- 
ing your living. 

^ From this admonition, it would seem that Swift snspectei 
Sheridan of a hankering towards jacobitical principles. 





Quilca, Jane 99, 1725. 

I WROTE to you yesterday, and said as many 

things as I could then think on, and gave it a boy 

of Kells who brought me yours. It is strange that 

I, and Stella, and Mrs Mackfadin, ^ should light 

on the same thought to advise you to make a great 

appearance of temperance while you are abroad. 

But Mrs Johnson and I go further, and say, you 

must' needs observe all grave forms, for the want of 

which both you and I have suffered. On supposal 

. that you are under the Bishop of Cork, 1 send you 

r a letter enclosed to him, which I desire you will seal. 

Mrs Johnson put me in mind to caution you not to 

. * drink of pledge any health in his company, for you 

know his weak side in that matter.f I hope Mr 

^.Tickeir has not complimented you with what fees 

are due to him for your patent ; I wish you would 

say -to him (if he refuses them) that I told you it was 

"Mr Addison's msqcim to excuse nobody ^ for here, 

says he, I may ha^e forty friends, whose fees may 

be two guineas a- piece ; then I lose eighty guineas, 

and my friends save but two a-piece. 

I must tell you, Dan Jackson ruined his living by 
huddling over the first year, and^heh hoping to 

* Mn Mackfadin was mother to Dr Sheridan's wife.^— H. 

+ He wrote a pamphlet agaiost drinking to the memory of the 
dead.— H. This may be at present thought a Tery odd subject 
for a treatise : But the healths to the glorious and inmiortal me- 
mory of King William were at this time a party signal^ and oc- 
casioned many quarrels. 

• • 






*• ^ mend it the next ; therefore pray take all the care 
^ you can to inquire into the value, and set it at the 
best rate to substantial people. 

I know not whether you. are under the Bishop of 
Cork or not ; if not, you may fcurii the letter. 

I mttst desire that you will not think of enlarging 
your expensesi no, not for some years to come, much 
less at present; but rather retrench them. You 
*^ might have lain destitute till Antichrist came, for 

any thing you could have got from those you used 
to treat ; neither let me hear of oue rag of better 
clothes for your wife or brats, but rather plainer 
than ever. This is positively Stella's advice as well 
as mine. She says now you need not be ashamed 
to be thought poor. 

We compute you cannot be less than thirty days 
absent ; and pray do not employ your time in lolling 
a-bed till noon to read Homer, but mind yqur busi- . 
ness effectually : and we think you ought to have 
. no breaking up this August ; but affect to adhere to 
your school closer than ever; because you will find^ 
that your ill-wishers will 'give out you are now 
going to quit your school, since you have got pre- 
ferment, &c. > }? 

Pray send me a large bundle of exercises, good as 
well as bad, for I want something to read. 

I would have you carry down three or four ser- 
mons, and preach every Sunday at your own church, 
and be very devout. 
w I sent you in my last a bill of twenty pounds on 

Mr Worral ; I hope you have received it. ' 

. Pray remember. to leave the pamphlet with Wor- 
ral, and give him directions, unless ^you have settled 
it already some other way. You know it must come 
out just wheA the parliament meets. 

* . 

*^ t 



Keep these letters where I advise you about your * 
living, till you have taken advice. 

Keep very regular hours for the sake of your 
liealth and credit; an^ wherever you lie a-night 
^ within twenty miles of your living, be sure call the 
family that evening to prayers. 

I desire you will wet no commission with your 
old crew, nor with any but those who befriend you. 
Is Mr Tickell, &c. 

Jon. Swift. 


f July 3, 1725, 

i My Lord, 

I AM obliged to return your excellency my most 
humble thanks for your favour to Mr Sheridan, be- 
cause when I recommended him to you, I received 
a very gracious answer I and yet I am sensible, that 
your chief motive to make some provision for him 
was, what became a great and good person, your 
di3tinguishing him as a man of learning, and one 
who deserved encouragement on account of his great 

* Lord Carteret's disposition to form a party in Ireland inde- 
pendent of that of Walpole, led him to fayour the tories^ and ren« 
dered him accessible to the Yarioos solicitations which Swift made in 
behalf of persons holding such principles. This conduct appeared 
rather suspicious to the leaders of the whig interest, in ridicule of 
whose fears and je&lousies^ Swift wrote his ironiod apology for 
Lord Carteret, defending him against the charge of faTOiiring the 
tories.— See Vol. VII. 



« • 



• ^> 

diligence and snccess in a most laborious sind dim- 
pult employment. ♦ 

Since your excellency has had an opportuni^ so 

early in your government ef gpratiiying your English 

dependants by a bishopric, and the best deanery in 

^ the kingdom, f I cannot but hope that the clergy 

'Of Ireland will have their share in your patronage. 

There is hardly a gentleman in the nation, who has 

«> not a near aUiance with some of that body ; and^ 

Inmost of them who have sons, usually breed one of 

them to the church ; although they have been of 

late years much dispouraged, and discontented, by 

seeing strangers to the country almost perpetuaUy 

taken into the greatest ecclesiastical preferments ; 

^ and too oftea, under governors very different from 

your excellency, the choice of persons was not to 

be accounted for either to prudence or justice. 

The misfortune of having bishops perpetually 
from England, as it must needs quench the spirit 
of emulation among us to excel in learning and the 
study of divinity, so it produces another great dis- 
couragement, that those prelates usually draw after. 
^ them colonies of sons, nephews, cousins, or old 

college companions, to whom they bestow the best 
preferments in their gift ; and thus the young men 
sent into the church from the university here, have 
no better prospect than to be curates, or smaU coun* 
try vicars, for life. 

It will become so excellent a governor as you, a 

^ > little to moderate this great partiality ; wherein, as 

4| ^ you will act with justice and reason, so you will gain 

^ the f hanks and prayers of the whole nation, and take 

away one great cause of universal discontent. For I 

* A scboolmuter. f Dopme. 


believe your excellency will agree, that there is not 
another kingdom in Europe, where the natives (even 
those descended from the conquerors) have been 
treated, as if they were almost unqualified for any 
employment either in church or state. 

Your excellency, when I had the honour to attend 
you, was pleased to let me name some clergymen, 
who are generally understood by their brethren to 
be the most distinguished for their learning and 
piety. I remember the persons were Dr Delany, 
Dr Ward of the north, Mr Ecklin, Mr Synge of 
Dublin, and Mr Corbet; they were named by me 
without any regard to friendship, having little com- 
merce with most of them, but only the universal 
character they bear : this was the method I always 
took with my Loid Oxford at his own command, 
who was pleased to believe that I worJd not be 
swayed by any" private affections, and confessed I 
never deceived him; for I always dealt openly when 
I offered any thing in behalf of a friend, which was 
but seldom : because, in that case, I generally made 
use of the common method at court, to solicit by 

I shall say nothing of the young men among the 
clergy, of whom the three hopefuUest are said to be 
Mr Stopford, Mr King, and Mr Dobbs, all fellows 
of the college, of whom I am only acquainted with 
the first. But these are not likely to be great ex- 
pecters under your excellency's administration, ac- 
cording to the usual period of governors here. 

If I have dealt honestly in representing such per- 
sons among the clergy, as are generally allowed to 
have the most merit, I think I have done you a 
service, and am sure I have made you a great com- 
pliment, by distinguishing you from most great 
men I have known these thirty years past ^ whom I 



have always observed to act as if they never received 
a true character, nor had any value for the best; and 
consequently dispensed their favours without the 
least regard to abilities or virtue. And this defect 
I have often found among those from whom I least 
expected it. 

That your excellency may long live a blessing 
and ornament to your country by pursuing, as you 
have hitherto done, the steps of honour and virtue, 
is the most earnest wish and prayer of. 

My Lord, 
Your excellency's most obedient 

and most humble servant, 

Jon. Swift. 


Quilca, July 12, 1795. 

I HAVE received your letter, and thank you hearti- 
ly for it. I know not any body, except yourself, 
who would have been at so much trouble to assist 
me, and who could have so good success, which I 
take as kindly as if you had saved me from utter 
ruin ; although I have witnesses that 1 acted with 
indifferency enough, when I was sure I was not 
worth a groat, beside my goods. There appears to 
be only one hundred pounds remaining, according 
to my account (except this last quarter,) and if I lose 
it, it is a trifle in comparison of what you have re- 
covered for me. I think Mr Pratt* has acted very 


* Deputy tIcc. treasurer of Ireland. It would appear that a 
considerable part of Swift's fortune was Tested in his hands^ that 


generously, aixd like a true friend, as I always took 
him to be ; and I have likewise good witnesses to 
swear, that I was more concerned at his misfortunes 
than my own. And so repeating my thanks to you, 
but not able to express them as I ought, I shall say 
no more on this subject, only that you may inquire 
where the money may be safely put out at six pounds 
per cent. I beg pardon that I did not compute the 
interest of Sir William Fownes*s money, which re- 
•duces what is due to me about fifty-nine pounds. 
All of consequence is my note to him for one hun- 
dred pounds. 

I gave over all hopes of my hay, as much as I did 
of my money ; for I reckoned the weather had ruin- 
ed it ; but your good management can conquer the 
weather. But Charles Grattan * the critic, says, 
the cocks are too large, considering the bad wea- 
ther, and that there is danger they may heat. 
You know best. 

Mrs Johnson says you are an ill manager ; for 
you have lost me above three hundred apples, and 
only savefl me twelve hundred pounds. 

Do not tell me of difficulties how to keep the 

from the wall-fruit, f You have got so ill a repu- 
tation by getting my money, that I can take no ex- 
cuse ; and I will have the thing effectually done, 
though it should cost me ten groats. Pray let the 
ground be levelled as you please, as it must likewise 
be new dunged, as good husbandry requires; friend 
Ellis will assist you. 

he bad been under pecuniary difficulties, and that the dean's pro. 
perty had been saved by the activity of Mr Worrall, 

* Master of the free-school at It^noiskillen.— F. 

f In Naboth's vineyard.— IX S. 


I am quite undone by the knavery of iSherifF and 
While, and all you have done for me with Mr Pratt 
signifies nothing, if I must lose ten pounds. 

I had your letter about Mrs Johnson*s money, 
and she thanks you for your care ; and says, consi- 
dering her poverty, you have done as much for her 
as for me. But I thought my letter to you was 
enough, without a letter of attorney ; for all money 
matters 1 am the greatest cully alive. 

Little good may do you with your favourable 
weather; we haVe had but five good days these 
twelve weeks. 

The ladies are pretty well ; but Mrs Johnson, 
after a fortnight's great amendment, had yesterday 
a very bad day; she is now much better. They 
both present their humble service to Mrs Worrall, 
and so do I, and am ever yours, &c. 

Jo. * who brings you this, desired me to lend him 
twenty pounds, which I very prudently refused; 
but said, if he would leave the worth of it in soap 
and candles in the deanery house, Mrs Brent view- 
ing them, I would empower you, as I do hereby, 
to pay him twenty pounds, and place it to my ac- 

Jon. Swift. 

Pray desire Mrs Brent to have ready a hogshead of 
bottles packed up as usual, of the same wine with 
the last she sent, and the next carrier shall have 
orders to call for it. 

Let Mrs Brent take out what candles or soap are 
necessary for the ladies, and only as much as will 

* Mr BeaumoDt, an eminent tallow-chandler at Trim, in the 
coanty of Meath.— D. S. 


empty two of the boxes, that Jo. may have them ; 
I mean out of those boxes which he is to leave at 
the deanery for my security for the twenty pounds, 
which he is to receive from you. 


LoDdoD, July Uy 1725. 

Mr Ford will tell you how I do, and what I do. 
Tired with suspense, the only insupportable misfor- 
tune of life, I desired, after nine years of autunmal 
promises, and vernal excuses, a decision ; and very 
little cared what that decision was, provided it left 
me at liberty to settle abroad, or put me on a foot of 
living agreeably at home. The wisdom of the na- 
tion has thought fit, instead of granting so reasonable 
a request, to pass an act, which, fixing my fortune 
unalterably to this country, fixes my person here 
also : and those who had the least mind to see me 
in England have made it impossible for me to live 
anywhere else. Here I am then, two thirds re- 
stored, my person safe (unless I meet hereafter with 
harder treatment than even that of Sir Weaker Ra- 
leigh) ; and my estate, with all the other property I 
have acquired or may acquire, secured to me. But 
the attainder is kept carefully and prudently in force, 
lest so corrupt a member should come again into 
the house of lords, and his bad leaven should sour 
that sweet untainted mass. This much I thought 
I might say about my private affairs to an old friead, 
without diverting him too long from his labours to 
promote the advantage of the church and state of 


Ireland ; or, from his travels into those countries of 
giants and pigmies, from whence he imports a cargo 
I value at a higher rate than that of the richest gal- 
leon. Ford brought the Dean of Derry * to see me. 
Unfortunately for me, I was then out of town ; and 
the journey of the former into Ireland will perhaps 
defer for some time my making acquaintance with 
the other ; which I am sorry for. I would not by 
any means lose the opportunity of knowing a man, 
who can espouse in good earnest the system of fa- 
ther Malebranche,t and who is fond of going a 
missionary in the West Indies. J My zeal for the 
propagation of the gospel will hardly carry me so 
far ; but my spleen against Europe has more than 
once made me think of buying the dominion of 
Bermudas, and spending the remainder of my days 
as far as possible from those people with whom I 
have past the first and greatest part of my life. 
Health and every other natural comfort of life is to 
be had there better than here. As to imaginary 

* Dr Berkeley, of whom sec a further account in a letter to 
Lord Carteret, Sept. 3, 1724, Vol. XVI. p. 468.— H. 

+ The system of Malcbranche, here referred to, was, << that 
our ideas are distinct from our understanding, and that we see 
all things in God.*' In other words, material objects arc but the 
causes of our ideas. Berkeley, in the early part of his life, wrote 
a dissertation against the existence of material beings and exter. 
nal objects with snch subtilty, that Whiston acknowledged him- 
self unable to confute it, and recommended the task to Dr Clarke. 
The doctor, however, did not perform it, and the dissertation 
remains unanswered to this time, except what has been attempted 
by Baiter in his Treatise on the Soul, fiayle says, that Male- 
branrhe*s system was only that of Democritus, amended and uu. 
folded — H. 

X For Berkeley's scheme for scUling in the Bermudas, see 
Vol. XVI. p. 409. 


and artificial pleasures, we are philosophers enough 
to despise them. What say you ? Will you leave 
your Hibernian flock to some other shepherd, and 
transplant yourself with me into the middle of the 
Atlantic Ocean ? We will form a society more rea- 
sonable, and more useful, than that of Dr Berkeley's 
college : and I promise you solemnly, as supreme 
magistrate, not to suffer the currency of Wood's 
halfpence : nay, the coiner of them shall be hang- 
ed, if he presumes tu set his foot on our island. 

Let me hear how you are, and what you do ; and 
if you really have any latent kindness still at the 
bottom of your heart for me, say something very 
kind to me, for I do not dislike being cajoled. If 
your heart tells you nothing, say nothing, that 1 may 
take the hint, and wean myself from you by de- 
grees. Whether I shall compass it or not, God 
knows: but surely this is the properest place in thte 
world to renounce friendship in, or to forget obliga- 
tions. Mr Ford says, he will be with us again by 
the beginning of the winter. Your star* will pro- 
bably hinder you from taking the same journey. 
Adieu, dear Dean. I had something more to say 
to you, almos;t as important as what I have said al- 
ready, but company comes in upon me, and relieves 

* Mrs JohnsoD, the ladj whom he celebrated bj ikf name of 




DoTer Street, Jalj 26, 1725. 

Reverend Sir, 

Mr Clayton going to Ireland, I take the oppor- 
tunity of writing to you, in the first place to' tell 
you, that I am ready to make -good my promise 
which 1 made of sending you a picture of my father. 
The painter has done his part, so that the picture 
is now ready, but I do not know how ,to send it to 
you safe : you did tell me a gentleman should call, 
but where he lives, or who he is, I know not. I am 
very desirous you should have it, because it has 
been so long coming : and I am very ambitious of 
doing any thing that may in the least be agreeable 
to you. You had heard of this sooner, but I have 
been for three months out of town ; l made a long 
progress, even beyond Edinburgh fifty miles. 

I inquire of you sometimes of Dean Berkeley : * 
I was sorry to hear that you were troubled with that 
melancholy distemper the want of hearing, although 
in some cases it is good ; but one would have it in 
one's power to hear or not hear, as it suited best 
with one*s inclinations. ^ 

I am also sorr}'^ that there is no mention made of 
any design of your coming into England. I long 
much for it, and do flatter myself with the thoughts 
of seeing you under my roof, where you shall exert 
more ^hority than I will allow to belong to any 

bishop^niade since .f Do not lay aside all 

thoughts of coming over; change of air may do you 

* Dr Berkeley was then the Dean of Dcrry....D. S. 
+ " The accession of George I.*' probabJj. 


good as well as the voyage. I thank God your sister 
is very well, considering the way she is in ; I hope 
in two months, or thereabouts, she will be much 
better: she presents her humble service to you. 
Peggy is very well. 

Pope is well I suppose ; he is rambling about the 
country. I have the pleasure of seeing a picture 
which is very like you every day, and is as good a 
picture as ever Jarvis painted. 
I am. Sir, 
Your most obedient 

humble servant and brother, 



Quilca, Aug. 27, 1795. 

I WAS heartily sorry to hear you had got the gout, 
being a disease you have so little pretence to ; for 
you have been all your life a great walker, and a 
little drinker. Although it be no matter how you 
got your disease, since it was not by your vices ; yet 
I do not love to think I was an instrument, by lead- 
ing you a walk of eight or nine miles, where your 
pride to show your activity in leaping down a ditch, 
hurt your foot in such a manner, as to end in your 
present disease. 

I have not yet heard of Mr Webb, and if he 
should come here, I can do nothing with him ; for I 
shall not take my own judgment, but leave it to 
some able lawyer to judge and recommend the 
security ; for now it is time for me to learn some 
worldly wisdom. 


I thank you for the purchase you have made of 
Bristol beer ; it will soon pay for itself, by saving 
me many a bottle of wine ; but I am afraid it is not 
good for your gout. 

My deafness has lefk me above three weeks, and 
therefore I expect a visit from it soon ; and it is 
somewhat less vexatious here in the country, because 
none are about me but those who are used to it. 

Mrs Worall's observation is like herself; she is 
an absolute corrupted city lady, and does not know 
the pleasures of the country, even of this place, with 
all its millions of inconveniencies. But Mrs Ding- 
ley is of her opinion, and would rather live in a 
Dublin cellar, than a country palace. 

I would fain have a shed thrown up in the fur- 
thest corner of Naboth's vineyard, toward the lower 
endofShebb's garden, till I can fmd leisure and 
courage to build a better in the centre of the field. 
Can it be done ? 

The weather continues as foul as if there had not 
been a day of rain in the summer, and it will have 
some very ill effect on the kingdom. 

1 gave Jack Grattan ^ the papers corrected, and I 
think half spoiled, by the cowardly caution of him 
and others. He promised to transcribe them time 
enough, and my desire is they may be ready to be 
published upon the first day the parliament meets. 
I hope you will contrive it among you, that it may 
be sent unknown (as usual) to some printer, with 
proper directions. I had lately a letter without a 
name, telling me that I have got a sop to hold my 

* A Terj worthy clergyman. — F. The papers referred to the 
controversy about Wood's halfpence. See the next letter Imt 


tongue, and that it is determined we must have that 
grievance, &c. forced on us. 

My intention is to return about the beginning of 
October, if my occasions do not hinder me. Be- 
fore that time it will be seen how the parliament 
will acl. They who talk with me think they will 
be slaves as usual, and led where the government 

My humble service to Mrs Worrall. The ladies 
present theirs to you both. 

Jon. Swift. 


DoTer Street, Aug. SO, 1725. 

Reverend Sir, 

I RECEIVED the favour of your letter; I am 
vexed that the trifle of the ring should not have 
reached you ; I found where the fault lay ; I hope you 
will soon receive both the picture and the ring safe : 
I have ordered them to the care of Erasmus Lewis, 
Esq. our old friend, and he is a punctual man, and 
is well acquainted with Mrs Ford, and my Lord 
Arran's chaplain, Mr Charleton; so I hope this 
method will not fail that I have now taken. I would 
not be wanting in the least trifle, by which I might 
show the value and esteem I have, and always must 
and will have for you. 

The picture I have of you is the same which Mr 
Jarvis drew of you in Ireland, and it is very like 
you, and is a very good picture ; and though Mr 
Jarvis is honoured with the place of his majesty's 


painter, he cannot paint a picture I shall so much 
value as I do that of the Dean of St Patrick's. 

My old fellow collegiate * has done so right a thing 
as to prefer one of your recommendation. 
I am, Sir, 
Your most obedient humble servant, 


My wife sends her compliments to you ; she is as 
well as can be expected^ 


Qailca, Aag. 31, 1725. 

I HAVE yours of the 28th. I am still to acknow- 
ledge and thank you for the care of my little affairs. 
I hope I shall not want the silver ; for I hope to be 
in town by the beginning of October, unless ex- 
treme good weather shall invite me to continue. 

Since Wood's patent is cancelled, it will by no 
means be convenient to have the paper printed, as 
I suppose you, and Jack Grattan, and Sheridan will 
agree ; therefore, if it be with the printer, f I would 
have it taken back, and the press broke, and let her 
be satisfied. 

The work is done, and there is no more need of 
the Drapier. 

Mrs Johnson does not understand what you mean 

* Lord Carteret. The passage probably alludes to Sheridan's 

+ Mrs Hardiog. — F. 


by her stamped linen, and remembers nothing of it^ 
but supposes it is some jest. 

The ladies are well ; all our sen^ices to Mrs Wor- 
rall. Mrs Dingley at last discovered the meaning 
of the stamped linen, which makes that part of my 
letter needless. 

Pray pay Jo. Beaumont four pounds for a horse I 
bought from him, and place it to my account. 

Jon. Swift. 

When Jo. brings you a piece of linen of twenty- 
four yards, pray put my name upon it, and pay him 
six pounds eight shillings. 


Wednesday morning, Sept. 9i 1725. 

Dear Sir, 
I FIND myself stand in need of the advice \ be- 
stowed on you the other night, and therefore if you 
have not got rid of your cold, I would prescribe a 
small jaunt to Belcamp * this morning. If you find 
yourself thus disposed, I will wait for you here in 
my boots : the weather may perhaps look gloomy 
at the deanery ; but I can assure you it is a fine day 
in the parish, t where we set up for as good tastes as 
our neighbours : to convince you of mine, I send 
you this invitation. 
I am, dear Sir, 
Your much obliged and obedient servant, 

George Rochfort. 

* Dr Grattan's, about five miles from Dublin. — F« 

f St Mary's parishi about a mile from the deanery.— F* 



Quiica, Sept 11, 1725. 

If you are indeed a discarded courtier, you have 
reason to complain, but none at all to wonder ; you 
are too young for many experiences to fall in your 
way, yet you have read enough to make you know 
the nature of man. It is safer for a man's interest 
to blaspheme God, than to be of a party out of 
power, or even to be thought so. And since the last 

* Sheridan lost his appointment as chaplain to Lord Carteret 
(then lord.lieutenant), by his unwary choice of a text for the 
first of August, anniversary of Queen Anne's death, and of the 
accession of the House of Hanover. <^ Sufficient for the day is 
the eril thereof," was the theme upon which, although a Tiolent 
tory, and suspected of being a Jacobite, he chose to preach upon 
that day. The tale was reported to the lieutenant, as was sup- 
posed, by Richard Tighe, who appears to have been foremost 
when any ill offices were to be rendered to persons of Sheridan's 
party, and who Was unfortunately an auditor when the unfortn- 
Date text was given forth. The time also was marked ; for it 
was exactly when Dr Sheridan had gone down to be inducted into 
his living, the first mark of the lord-lieutenant's favour. It wai 
in vain that he protested the text was chosen by mere inadvertence, 
that he had forgotten his engagement to preach for Archdeacon 
Russell of Cork, whose pulpit he occupied upon that nnlackj 
day, and that, being suddenly called upon to fulfil his engage- 
ment, he seized the first old sermon that he had by him, widiont 
even looking into it. All this profited nothint; : Doctor Sheri- 
dan was disgraced at the viceroy's court, and his name struck out 
of the list of chaplains. 

This misfortune led to an exemplary act of generosity on the 
part of Archdeacon Russell, who, though no farther accessory 
to the blunder than by the loan of his pulpit, conveyed to Sheri- 
dan, by irrevocable gift, the valuable manor of j3rumlane, in 
the county of Cavan, a bishop's lease, worth L«S50 yearly. 


was the case, how could you imagine that all mouths 
would not be open when you were received, and in 
some manner preferred by the government, though 
in a poor way ? I tell you there is hardly a whig in 
Ireland, who would allow a potatoe and butter-milk 
to a reputed tory. Neither is there any thing in 
your countrymen upon this article more than what 
IS common in all other nations, only quoad magis et 
minus. Too mnch advertency is not your talent^ 
or else you had fled from that text, as from a rock. 
For as Don Quixote said to Sancho, what business 
had you to speak of a halter in a family where one 
of it was hanged ? And your innocence is a pro- 
tection, that wise men are ashamed to rely on, fur* 
ther than with God. It is indeed against common 
sense to think, that you should choose such a time, 
when you had received a favour from the lord-lieu- 
tenant, and had reason to expect more, to discover 
your disloyahy in the pulpit. But what will that 
avail ? Therefore sit down and be quiet, and mind 
your business as you should do, and contract your 
friendships, and expect no more from man than such 
an animal is capable of, and you will every day find 
my description of Yahoos more resembling. * You 
should think and deal with every man as a villain, 
without calling him so, or flying from him, or va- 
luing him less. This is an old true lesson. You 
believe, every one will acquit you of any regard to 
temporal interest: and how came you to claim an 
es^ception from all mankind ? I believe you value 
your temporal interest as much as any body, but 
you have not the arts of pursuing it. You are mis- 

* The TraYcls of GnlliTer appeared ia 1726 and 1727 : it ap. 
pears Sheridaa bad seen the manuscript. 


taken. Domestic evils are no more within a man 
than others ; and he who cannot bear up against the 
first, will sink under the second, and in my con- 
science I believe this is your case ; for being of a weak 
constitution, in an employment precarious and tire- 
some, loaden with children, a man of intent and 
abstracted thinking, enslaved by mathematics, and 
complaint of the world, this new weight of party 
malice had struck you down, like a feather on a 
horse's back already loaden as far as he is able to 
bear. You ought to change the apostle's expres- 
sion, and say, I will strive to learn in whatever 
state, &c. 

I will hear none of your visions ; yjou shall live 
at duilca but three fortnights and a month in the 
year; perhaps not so much. You shall make no 
entertainments but what are necessary to your inte- 
rests ; for your true friends would rather see you 
over a piece of mutton and a bottle once a quarter; 
you shall be merry at the expence of others ; you 
shall take care of your health, and go early to bed, 
and not read late at night ; and laugh with all men, 
without trusting any ; and then a fig for the con- 
trivers of your ruin, who now have no further 
thoughts than to stop your progress, which perhaps 
they may not compass, unless 1 am deceived more 
than is usuaK All this you will do, si mihi credisy 
and not dream of printing your sermon,* which is 
a project abounding with objections unanswerable, 
and with which 1 could fill this letter. You say no- 
thing of having preached before the lord-lieutenant, 

* The unlucky discourse had no reference whateTer to politics, 
which, perhaps, led Sheridan to hope printing it might be some 
sort of exculpation. 


nor whether he is altered toward you ; for you speak 
nothing but generals. You think all the world has 
now nothing to do but to pull Mr Sheridan down, 
whereas it is nothing but a slap in your turn, and 
away. Lord Oxford said once to me on an occa- 
sion, these fools, because they hear a noise about 
their ears of their own making, think the whole 
world is full of it. When I come to town, we will 
change all this scene, and act like men of the world. 
Grow rich and you will have no enemies ; go some- 
times to the castle, keep fast Mr Tickell and Ba- 
laguer ; * frequent those on the right side, friends to 
the present powers ; .drop those who are loud on 
the wrong pfcrty, because they know they can suffer 
nothing by it. 

Jon. Swift. 


Sept 14, 1735. 

I NEED not tell you, with what real delight I 
should have done anv thing you desired, and in par- 
ticular any good offices in my power toward the 
bearer of your letter, who is this day gone for France. 
Perhaps it is with poets as with prophets, they are 
so much better liked in another country than their 
own, that your gentleman, upon arriving in England, 
lost his curiosity concerning me. f However, had he 

♦ H« was priTate secretary to Lord Carteret. — H. 
f Dr James Stopford. See the Dean's letter to him while on 
hb travels, 36th NoTeml>er 1725. 



tried he had found me his friend ; I mean he had- 
found me yours. I am disappointed at not kftow- 
ing better a man whom you esteem, and comfort 
myself only with having got a letter from you, with 
which (after all) I set down a gainer, since, to my 
great pleasure, it confirms my hope of once more 
seeing you. After so many dispersions and so many 
divisions, two or three of us may yet be gathered 
together ; not to plot, not to contrive silly schemes 
of ambition, or to vex our own or others hearts with 
busy vanities (such as, perhaps, at one time of life 
or other, take their tour in every nian) but to divert 
ourselves, and the world too if i| pleases; or at worst, 
to laugh at others as innocently and aji^unhurtfully 
as at ourselves. Your travels * 1 hear much of; my 
own I promise you shall never more be in a strange 
land, but a diligent, I hope useful investigation j" of 
my own territories. J I mean no more translations, 
but something domestic, fit for my own country, 
and for my own time. 

If you come to us I will find you elderly ladies 
enough that can halloo, and two that can nurse, and 
they are too old and feeble to make too much noise ; 
as you will guess when I tell you they are my own 
mother and my own nurse. I can also help you to 
a lady who is as deaf, though not so old, as yourself ; 
you will be pleased with one another I will engage, 
though you do not hear one another : you will con- 
verse, like spirits, by intuition. What you will most 
wonder at is, she is considerable at court, yet no 

♦ Gulliver — Warburton. 

+ The Essay on Man..— Warburton. 

J This is the first notice he gives Swift of his great work : and 
is so obscure here, that Swift certainly could not guess at the 
subject ; written 1725.— Dr VVarton. 


party woman ; and lives in court, yet would be easy 
and -make you easy. 

One of those you mention (and I dare say always, 
will remember) Dr Arbuthnot, is at this time ill of 
a very dangerous distemper, an imposthume in the 
bowels ; which is broke, but the event is very un- . 
certain. Whatever that be (he bids me tell you, and 
I write this by him) he lives or dies your faithful 
friend; and one reason he has to desire a little longer 
life is, the wish to see you once more. 

He is gay enough in this circumstance to tell you 
he would give you (if he could) such advice as 
might cure your deafness^ Cut he would not advise:, 
you, if yon were cuted, td quit the pretence of it ;^ 
because you may by that means hear as much as you 
will, and answer as little as you please. Believe 

Yours, &c. 


Quilca, Sept. 19, 1725* 

We have prevailed with Neal, in spite of his har- 
vest, to carry up miss, with your directions ; and 
it is high time, for she was run almost wild, though 
we have something civilized her since she came 
among us. You are too short in circumstances. I 
did not hear you was forbid preaching. Have you 
seen my lord ? Who forbade you to preach ? Are 
you no longer chaplain ? Do you never go to the 
castle ? Are you certain of the accuser, that it is 
Tighe ? Do you think my lord acts thus, because 
he fears it would breed ill humour, if he should 


openly favour one who is looked on as of a difTerent 
party ? I think that is too mean for him. I do not 
much disapprove your letter, but I think it a wrong 
method ; pray read over the enclosed twice, and if 
you do not dislike it, let it be sent (not by a servant 
of yours, nor from you) to Mr Tickell. There the 
case is stated as well s|s I could do it in generals, for 
want of knowing particulars. When I come to 
town, I shall see the lord-lieutenant, and be as free 
with him as possible. In the meantime I believe it 
may keep cold ; however, advise with Mr Tickell 
and Mr Balaguer. 1 should fancy that the Bishop 
of Limerick * could easily satisfy his excellency, and 
^that my lord-lieutenant believes no more of your 
guilt than I, and therefore it can be nothing but to 
satisfy the noise of party at this juncture, that he 
acts as he does ; and if so (as I am confident it is) 
the effect will cease with the cause. But with- 
out doubt, Tighe and others have dinned the words 
tory and Jacobite into his excellency's ears, and 
therefore your text, &c. was only made use of as an 

Upon the whole matter you are no loser, but at 
least have got something. Therefore be not like 
him who hanged himself, because going into a gam- 
ing-house and winning ten thousand pounds, he lost 
five thousand of it, and came away with only half 
his winnings. When my lord is in London we may 
clear a way to him to do you another job, and you 
areyoung enough to wait. 

We set out to Dublin on Monday the 5th of Octo- 
ber, and hope to sup at the deanery the next night, 

Dr William Barscough. 


where you will come to us if you are not already 

I am grown a bad bailiff toward the end of my 
service. Your hay is well brought in, and better 
stacked than usual. All here are well. 

I know not what you mean by my having some 
sport soon ; I hope it is no sport that will vex me. 

Pray do not forget to seal the enclosed before you 
send it. 

I send you back your letter to the lord-lieutenant. 


Quilca, Sept 25, 1725. 

Your confusion hindered you from giving any 
rational account of your distress, till this last letter, 
and th^ein you are imperfect enough. However, 
with much ado, we have now a tolerable under- 
standing how things stand. We had a paper sent 
enclosed, subscribed by Mr Ford, as we suppose ; it 
is in print, and we all approve it, and this I sup- 
pose is the sport I was to expect. *. 1 do think it is 
agreed, that all animals fight with the weapons natu«- 
ral to them (which is a new and wise remark out of 
my own head), and the devil take that animal, who 
will not offend his enemy when he is provoked, 
with his proper weapon ; and though your old dull 
horse little values the blows 1 give him with the butt 
end of my stick, yet I strike on and make him wince 
in spite of his dulness ; and he shall not fail of them 

Some satire on Richard Tighe. 


while I am here ; and I hope you will do so too to 
the beast who has kicked against yon, and try how 
far his insensibility will protect him, and you shall 
have help, and he will be vexed, for so 1 found your 
horse this day, though he would not move the faster. 
I will kill that flea or louse which bites me, though 
I get no honour by it. 

Laudari ah iis^ quos omnes laudant^ is a maxim ; 
and the contrary is equally true. Thank you for the 
offer of your mare ; and how a pox could we come 
without her ? They pulled off" her and your horses 
shoes for fear of bekig rid, and then they rode them 
without shoes, and so I was forced to shoe them 
again. All the fellows here would be Tighes, if they 
were but privy-counsellors. You will never be at 
ease for your friend's horses or your own, till you 
have walked in a park of twenty acres, which 1 would 
have done next spring. 

You say not a word of the letter I sent you for 
Mr Tickell, whether you sent it him or not ; and 
yet it was very material that I should know it. The 
two devils of inadvertency and forgetfulness have 
got fast hold on you. 1 think you need not quit his 
and Balaguer's company for the reason I mentioned 
in that letter, because they are above suspicions, as 
whiggissimi and unsvspectissimi. When the lord- 
lieutenant goes for England, J have a method to set 
you right with him, I hope, as I will tell you when 
1 come to town, if I do not Sheridan it, I mean for- 
get it. 

I did a Sheridanism ; I told you I had lost your 
letter enclosed, which you intended to Lord Carteret, 
and yet I have it safe here. 



Sept. 29, 1725. 

I AM now returning to the noble scene of Dublin, 
into the grande mondey for fear of burying my parts, 
to signalize myself among curates and vicars, and 
correct all corruptions crept in, relating to the weight 
of bread and butter, through those dominions where 
I govefti. * I have employed my time (beside 
ditching) in finishing, correcting, amending, and 
transcribing my travels, t in four parts complete, 
newly augmented, and intended for the press, when 
the world shall deserve them, or rather when a 
printer shall be found brave enough to venture his 
ears. I like the scheme"* of our meeting after dis- 
tresses and dispersions, but the chief end I propose 
to myself in all my labours is, to vex the world ra- 
ther than divert it ; and if I could compass that de- 
sign, without hurting my own person or fortune, I 
would be the most indefatigable writer you have 
ever seen without reading. I am exceedingly pleased 
that you have done with translations : Lord-treasurer 
Oxford often lamented that a rascally world should 
lay you under a necessity of misemploying your 
genius for so long a time. But sinc^ you will now 
be so much better employed, when you think of 
the world, give it one lash the more, at my request. 
I have ever hated all nations," professions, and com- 
munities ; and all my love is toward individuals : for 

* The liberties of St Patrick's Cathedral. 
+ Those of Gullifer. 


instance, I hate the tribe of lawyers, but I love coun- 
sellor such a one, and judge such a one : It is so 
with physicians (I will not speak of my own trade), 
soldiers, English, Scotch, French, and the rest. But 
principally I hate and detest that animal called 
man ; although I heartily love John, Peter, Tho- 
mas, and so forth. This is the system upon which 
I have governed myself many years (but do not tell) 
and I shall go on till I have done with them. I ha?e 
got materials toward a treatise, proving the falsity of 
that definition animal rationalcy and to %bow it 
would be only raiionis capax. * Upon this great foun- 
dation of misanthropy (though not in Timon's man- 
ner) the whole building of my travels is erected ; 
and I never will have peace of mind till all honest 
men are of my opinion: by consequence you are 
to embrace it immediately^ and procure that all who 
deserve my esteem may do so too. The matter is 
so clear that it will admit of no dispute; nay, I w^l 
hold a hundred pounds that you and I agree in the 

I did not know your Odyssey was finished, being 
yet in the country, which I shall leave in three days. 
I thank you kindly for the present, but shall like it 
three-fourths the less, from the mixture you men- 
tion of other hands ; however, I am glad you saved 
yourself so niuch drudgery. — I have been long 
told by Mr Ford of your great achievements in 

* These and similar passages contain a great deal of wild and 
Tiolent inyective against mankind, which has been perhaps too 
hastily adopted as ezpressiTc of Swift's actual sentiments. It 
ought, however, to be remembered, that if the Dean's principles 
were misanthropical, his practice was benevolent. Few have 
written so much with so little view either .to fame or to profit, 
or to aught but benefit to the public. 


building and planting, and especially of your sub* 
terranean passage to your garden, whereby you 
turned a blunder into a beauty, which is a piece of 
Ars Poetica. 

I hare almost done with harridans, and shall soon 
become old enough to fall in love with girls of 
fourteen. The lady * whom you describe to live at 
court, to be deaf, and no party woman, I take to 
be mythology, but know not how to moralize it. 
She cannot be Mercy, for Mercy is neither deaf, nor 
lives at court: Justice is blind, and perhaps deaf^ 
but neither is she a court lady : Fortune is both blind 
and deaf, and a court lady, but then she is a most 
damnable party woman, and will never make me 
^^y> a^ you promise. It must be Riches, which 
answers all your description : I am glad she visits 
you, but my voice is so weak that I doubt she will 
never hear me. 

/et Mr Lewis sent me an account of Dr Arbuthnot's 
illness, which is a very sensible affliction to me, 
who, by living so long out of the world, have lost 
that hardness of heart contracted by years and ge- 
neral conversation. I am daily losing friends, and 
neither seeking nor getting others. O if the world 
had but a dozen Arbuthnots in it, I would bum 
my travels ! but, however, he is not without fault : 
there is a passage in Bede highly commending the 
piety and learning of the Irish in that age, where, 
after abundance of praises, he overthrows them all, 
by lamenting that, alas ! they kept Easter at a wrong 
time of the year. So our doctor has every quality 
and virtue that can make a man amiable or useful ; 
but, alas ! he hath a sort of slouch in his walk ! I 

* Pope meant Mrs Howard, as appears by his answer. 


pray God protect him, for he is an excellent Christ- 
ian, though not a Catholic. 

I hear nothing of our friend Gay, but I find the 
court keeps him at hard meat. I advised him to 
come over here with a lord-lieutenant Philips 
writes little flams (as Lord Leicester called those 
sorts of verses) on Miss Carteret. A Dublin black- 
smith, a great poet, has imitated his manner in a 
poem to the same miss. Philips is a complainer, 
and on this occasion I told Lord Carteret that com* 
plainers never succeed at court though railers do. 

Are you altogether a country gentleman, that I 
must address to you out of London, to the hazard of 
your losing this precious letter, which I will now 
conclude, although so much paper is left. I have 
an ill name, and therefore shall not subscribe it, 
but you will guess it comes from one who esteems 
and loves you about half as much as you deserve, I 
mean as much as he can. .: 

I am in great concern, at what I am just told is 
in some of the newspapers, that Lord Bolingbroke 
is much hurt by a fall in hunting. I am glad he 
has so much youth and vigour left, (of which he 
has not been thrifty) but I wonder he has no mort 


October 16, 1725. 

I AM wonderfully pleased with the suddenness of 
your kind answer. It makes me hope you are com- 
ing toward us, and you incline more and more to 


your old friends in proportion as you draw nearer 
to them ; and are getting into our vortex. Here is 
one,* who was once a powerful planet, but has now 
(after long experience of all that comes of shining) 
learned to be content with returning to his first 
point, without the thought or ambition of shining 
at all. Here is another, f who thinks one of the 
greatest glories of his father was to have distin- 
guished and loved you, and who loves you heredi- 
tarily. Here is Arbuthnot recovered from the jaws 
of death, and more pleased with the hope of seeing 
you again than that of reviewing a world, every 
part of which he has long despised, but what is 
made up of a few men like yourself He goes 
abroad again, and is more cheerful than even health 
can make a man, for he has a good conscience into 
the bargain, which is the most catholic of all re« 
medies, though not the most universal. I knew it 
would be a pleasure to you to hear this, and in 
truth that made me write so soon to you. 

I am sorry poor P. J is not promoted in this age ; 
for certainly if his reward be of the next he is of 
all poets the most miserable. I am also sorry for 
another reason : if they do not promote him, they 
will spoil the conclusion of one of my satires, where, 
having endeavoured to correct the taste of the town 
in wit and criticism, I end thus : 

But what aTails to lay d«wn rules for sense ? 
In George's reign these fruitless lines were writ, 
lYhen Ambrose Philips was preferred for wit ! 

* Bolingbroke. i- Lord Oxford. 

"l Ambrostt Philips^ with whom Pope had a well-known 


Our friend Gay is used as the friends of tones are 
by whigs, and generally by tones too. Because he 
had humour he was supposed to have dealt with 
Dr Swift; in like manner as when any one bad 
learning formerly he was thought to have dealt 
with the devil. He puts his whole trust at court in 
that lady * whom I described to you, and whom you 
take to be an allegorical creature of fancy : I wish 
she really were Riches for his sake ; though as for 
yours, I question whether (if you knew her) you 
would change her for the other. 

Lord Bolingbroke had not the least harm by his 
fidl, I wish he had received no more by his other 
fall ; Lord Oxford had none by his. But Lord Bo- 
lingbroke is the most improved mind, since you 
saw him, that ever was improved without shifting 
into a new body or being : paulo minus ab angelis. 
I have often imagined to myself, that if ever 93\ of 
us meet again, alter so many varieties and changes^ 
after so much of the old world and of the old man 
in each of us has been altered, that scarce a single 
thought of the one, any more than a single atom of 
the other, remains just the same ; I have fancied^ I 
say, that we should meet like the righteous in the 
millennium, quite in peace, divested of all our for- 
mer passions, smiling at our past follies, and con- 
tent to enjoy the kingdom of the just in tranquillity. 
But 1 find you would rather be employed as an 
avenging angel of wrath* to break your vial of in- 

* Mrs Howard. Gaj trusted to ber inflaence as the prince's 
mistress, not aware that the real gOTerness of the family was the 
princess herself, who, though indulgent to her husband's galhui- 
tries, was sufficiently jealous of her political influence OTer him| 
and ncTcr failed to disconcert all the schemes of those who hoped 
to rise by Mrs Howard's interest. 


dignation over the heads of the wretched creatures 
of this world ; nay, would make them eat your book, 
which you have made (I doubt not) as iHtter a pill 
for them as possible. 

I would not tell you what designs * I have in my 
head (beside writing a set of maxims in opposition 
to all Rochefoucault'sf principles) till I see you 
here, face to face. Then you shall have no reason 
to complain of me, for want of a generous disdain 
of this world, though I have not lost my ears in 
yours and their service. Lord Oxford too (whom 
I have now the third time mentioned in this letter, 
and he deserves to be always mentioned in every 
thing that is addressed to you, or comes from you) 
expects you : that ought to be enough to bring you 
hither ; it is a better reason than if the nation ex- 
pected you. For I really enter as fully as you can 
desire into your principle of love of individuals : 
and I think the way to have a public spirit is first 
to have a private one ; for who can believe (such a 
firiend of mine) that any man can care for a hundred 
thpusand people who never cared for one ? No ill- 
humoured man can ever be a patriot, any more than 
a friend. 

I designed to have left the following page for Dr 
Arbuthnot to fill, but he is so touched with the pe- 
riod in yours to me concerning him that he intends 

* This was only said as an oblique reproof of the horrid mis- 
aniliropy in the foregoing letter ; and which he supposed might 
be chieflj occasioned by the Dean's fondness for Rochefoucault, 
whose Maxims are founded on the principle of an universal self- 
ishness in human nature..— Dr Wakton. 

+ *^ Who is the great philosopher," says Addison, ^< for ad- 
ministering of consolation to the idle, the carious, and the worth- 
less part of mankind.'^ — Dr Wartoit. 


to answer it by a whole letter. He too is busy about 
a book, which I guess ho will tell you of. S> adieu. 
What remains worth telling you ? Dean Berkeley 
is well, and happy in the prosecution of his scheme.* 
Lord Oxford and Lord Bolingbroke in health, Duke 
Disney t so also; Sir William Wyndham better. 
Lord Bathurst well. These and some other, pre- 
serve their ancient honour, and ancient friendship. 

Those who do neither, if they were d d, what is 

it to a protestant priest, who has nothing to do with 
the dead ? I answer for< my own part as a papist, I 
would not pray them out of purgatory. 

My name is as bad a one as yours, and hatod by 
all bad people, from Hopkins and Sternhold to Gil- 
don and Gibber. The first prayed agdin3t me with 
the Turk ; and a modern imitator of theirs (whom 
I leave you to find out) has added the Christian 
to them, with proper definitions of each, in this 
manner : 

The Pope*s the whore of Babylon, 

The Tnrk he is a Jew : 
The Christian is an infidel 

That sitteth in a pew. j; 

* Hb scheme for a religious settlement at Bermudas. — Bowlu. 

+ Duke Disney is often mentioned with affectionate and fani. 
liar kindness by the party. He lircd at Greeawich, as appears 
by Gay*8 ballad : 

** I bear iacetioiis Disney say, 

Duke, that's the room for Pope, and that for Oay.*«^Bowi,Es. 

X Sec Pope's ballad, beginning, 

^ Whoe'er of Febniary bst. 
In Flymg-Post the news saw,** &c 



London, Oct 17, 1725. 

Dear Sir, 
I HAVE the vanity to think, that a few friends 
have a real concern for me, and are uneasy when I 
am in distress ; in consequence of which I ought to 
communicate with them the joy of my recovery. I 
did not want a^ost kind paragraph in your letter 
to Mr Pope, to convince me that you are of the 
number; and I know, that I give you a sensible 
pleasure in telling you, that I think myself at this 
time almost perfectly recovered of a most unusual 
and dangerous distemper, an imposthume in the 
bowels ; such a one, that had it been in the hands 
of a chirurgeon, in an outward and fleshy part, I 
should not have been well these three months. 
Duke Disney, our old friend, is in a fair way to 
recover of such another. There have been .several 
of them, occasioned, as I reckon, by the cold and 
wet season. People have told me of new impostures 
(as they called them) everyday. Poor Sir William 
Wyndham has an imposthume : I hope the Bath, 
where he is going, will do him good. The hopes of 
seeing once more the Dean of St Patrick's revives 
my spirits. I cannot help imagining some of our 
old club met together like mariners after a storm. 
For God's sake do not tantalize your friends any 
more. I can prove by twenty unanswerable argu- 
ments, that it is absolutely necessary that you should 
come over to England ; that it would be committing 
the greatest absurdity that ever was not to do it the 
next approaching winter. I believe, indeed, it is just 
possible to save your soul without it^ and that is all. 

48 EPISTOLARY correspoxoence; 

As for your book (of which I have framed to my- 
self such an idea, that I am persuaded there is no 
doing any good upon mankind without it) I will 
set the letters myself, rather than that it should not 
be published.* But before you put the finishing 
hand to it, it is really necessary to be acquainted 
with some new improvements of mankind, that have 
appeared of late, and are daily appearing. Mankind 
has an inexhaustible source of invention in the way 
of folly and madness. I have only one fear, that 
when you come over, you will be y> much coveted 
and taken up by the ministry, that unless your 
friends meet you at their tables, they will have none 
of your company. This is really no joke ; I am quite * 
in earnest. Your deafness is so necessary a thing, 
that I almost begin to think it an affectation. I re- 
member you used to reckon dinners. I know of near 
half a year's dinners, where you are already bespoke. 
It is worth your while to come to see your old 
friend Lewis, who is wiser than ever he was, the 
best of husbands. I am sure I can say, from my 
own experience, that he is the best of friends. He 
was so to me, when he had little hope I should ever 
live to thank him. 

You must acquaint me before you take your jour- 
ney, that we may provide a convenient lodging for 
you among your friends. I am called away this 
moment, and have only time to add, that I long to 
see you, and am most sincerely. 

Dear Sir, 
Your most faithful humble servant, 

Jo. Arbuthnot. 

* The Dean had said GolliTer's TraTels shovid be prioted so 
Boon as he could find a printer braTe enoggh to risk his ean. 
See the preceding letter to Pope, p. 39. 



DoTcr Street, Oct. 19, 1725. 

Reverend Sir, 
I HOPE you will excuse these few lines for once, 
when I tell you that yesterday morning, I thank 
God, my wife was safely delivered of a son, and both 
mother and child are as well as can be expected. 
I fancy this will not be disagreeable news to the 
Dean of St Patrick's, except he be very much al- 
tered, which I believe not. I will not trouble you 
with any more, but to tell you that I am, with great 
respect. Sir, 

Your most obedient servant, 



November 26, 17^5. 

I SHOULD sooner have acknowledged yours, if a 
feverish disorder and the relics of it had not disabled 
me for a fortnight. I now begin to make excuses, 
because I hope I am pretty near seeing you, and 
therefore I would cultivate an acquaintance; be- 
cause if you do not know me when we meet, you 
need only keep one of my letters, and compare it 
with my face, for my face and letters are counter- 
parts of my heart. I fear I have not expressed that 
right, but I mean well, and I hate blot$ : I look in 



your letter, and in my conscience you say the same 

thing but in a better manner. Pray tell my Lord 

Bolingbroke that I wish he were banished again, for 

then I should hear from him, when he was full of 

philosophy, and talked de contemptu mundi. My 

Lord Oxford was so extremely kind as to write to me 

immediately an account of his son's birth ; which I 

immediately acknowledged, but before the letter 

could reach him, I wished it in the sea ; I hope I 

was more afflicted than his lordship. It is hard that 

parsons and beggars should be overrun with bratts^ 

while so great and good a family wants an heir to 

continue it. I have received his father's picture, 

but I lament (sub sigillo confessionis ) that it is not 

so true a resemblance as I could wish. Drown the 

world ! I am not content with despising it, but I 

ivould anger it, if I could with safety. I wish there 

were an hospital built for its despisers, where one 

might act with safety, and it need not be a large 

building, only I would have it well endowed. P*** 

is fort chancelant whether he shall turn parson or 

no. But all employments here are engaged, or in 

reversion. Cast wits and cast beaux have a proper 

sanctuary in the church : yet we think it a severe 

judgment, that a fine gentleman, and so much the 

finer for hating ecclesiastics^ should be a domestic 

humble retainer to an Irish prelate. He is neither 

secretary nor gentleman-usher, yet serves in both 

capacities. He has published several reasons why 

he never came to see me, but the best is, that I 

have not waited on his lordship. We have had a 

poem sent from London in imitation of that on Miss 

Carteret. It is on Miss Harvey of a day old ; and 

Philips, doobiless* 


we say and think it is yours. I wish it were not, 
because I am against monopolies. You might have 
spared me a few more lines of your satire, but I 
hope in a few months to see it all. To hear boys 
like you talk of millenniums and tranquillity ! I am 
older by thirty years. Lord Bolingbroke by twenty, 
and you but by ten, than when we last were toge- 
ther; and we should differ more than ever, you 
coquetting a maid of honour, my lord looking on to 
see how the gamesters play, and I railing at you 
both. I desire you and all my friends will take a 
special care that my disaffection to the world may 
not be imputed to my age^ for I have credible wit- 
nesses ready to depose, that it hath never varied 
fipom the twenty-first to the f — ^ty-eighth year of my 
life (pray fill that blank charitably.) 1 tell you after 
alt, that I do not hate mankind, it is vous atitPes 
who hate them, because you would have them rea- 
sonable animals, and are angry at being disap- 
pointed .* I have always rejected that definition, and 
made another of my own. I am no more angry 

with ' — than I was with the kite that last week 

flew away with one of my chickens ; and yet I was 
pleased when one of my servants shot him two days 
after. This I say, because you are so hardy as to 
tell me of your intentions to write maxims in oppo- 
sition to Rochefoucault, who is my favourite, be- 
cause I found my whole character in him; how- 
ever I will read him again, because it is possible I 
may have since undergone some alterations. Take 
care the bad poets do not outwit you, as they have 
served the good ones in every age, whom they have 
provoked to transmit their names to posterity. Mae- 
vius is as well known as Virgil, and Gildon will be 
as well known as you, if his name gets into your 
verses : and as to the difference between good and 


bad fame, * it is a perfect trifle. I ask a thousand 
pardons, and so leave you for this time, and I will 
write again without concerning myself whether you 

write or not. 

I am^ &c. 

JoN. Swift. 



NoYember 36, 179&. 

Dear Jim, 
^IliAD your kind letter from Paris, dated Nov. 1^ 
N. S. I am angry with you for being so short, un- 
less you are resolved not to rob your journal-book. 
What have vous autres voyageurs to do but write 
and ramble? Your picture of K. C. I. will be a great 
present whenever I shall receive it, which I reckon 
will be about the time of your return from Italy j 
for my Lord Oxford's picture was two months com- 
ing from London. 

Mr Pope is very angry with you, and says you 
look on him as a prophet, who is never esteemed in 
his own country, and he lays all the blame upon you, 
but will be pacified if you see him when you come 
back.*' Your other correspondents tell me, that Mr 
G. beside his clothes, lost 2001. in money, which to 

* ** I desire fame,'' says a certain philosopher, *^ let this oc- 
cur : if I act well, I shall have the esteom of all mj acquaiot^ 
aace ; and what is all the rest to me V — Dt Waktok* 


me you slur over. I like your Indian's answers 
well ; but I suppose the queen was astonished if she 
was told, contrary to her notions, that the great 
people were treated and maintained by the poor. 
Mrs Johnson denies you to be a slave« and says you 
are much more so in quality of a governor ; as all 
good princes are slaves to their subjects. I think 
you are justly dealt with : You travelled with liberty 
to work your slavery, and now you travel with sla- 
very to work your liberty. The point of honour 
will not be so great, but you have equal opportuni- 
ties to inform yourself and satisfy your curiosity. 
The happier you were abroad in your first travels, 
the more miserable you were at your return ; and 
now the case will be directly contrary. I have been 
confined a fortnight with a little feverish disorder, 
and the consequences of it, but now am as usual, with 
tolerable health. 

As to intelligence, here is the house of commons, 
with a little remains of the nation's spirit against 
Wood's coin, are opposing the court in their unrea- 
sonable demands of money to satisfy the wanton and 
pretended debts of the crown, and all party but 
that of court and country seem to be laid asleep. 
I iiave said and writ to the lieutenant what I thought 
was right, and so have my betters ; but all surdis 
auribus: This is enough for such a hermit as I to 
tell you of public matters. Your friends are all well, 
and you have not been long enough absent for any 
material accident to fall out. Here is a great ru- 
mour of the king's being dead, or dying at Hanover, 
which has not the least effect on any passion in me. 
Dr Delany is a most perfect courtier ; Sheridan full 
of his own af&irs and the baseness of the world ; 
Dr Helsham d son aise at home or abroad ; the Dean 
of St Patrick's sitting like a toad in a corner of his 


great house, with a perfect hatred of all public 
actions and persons. You are desired to bring over a 
few of the testons, and what d'ye call (Julio's, I 
think) of Parme, Florence, and Kome, which some 
people would be glad of for curiosities, and will give 
you other money for them. If you are rich enough 
to buy any good copies of pictures by great hands, 
I desire when you would buy two to buy three, and 
the third shall be taken off your hands, withthanks, 
and all accidents be answered by the buyer. The 
people of Ireland have just found out that their 
fathers, sons, and brothers, are not made bishops, 
judges, or officers civil or military, and begin to 
think it should be otherwise ; but the government 
go on as if there were not a human creature in the 
kingdom fit for any thing but giving money. Your 
brother paid the money to the lady ; — ^What would 
you have more ? This is a time of no events. Not a 
robbery or murder to be had, for want of which and 
poetry the hawkers are starving. Take care of your 
health, and come home by Switzerland; from 
whence travel blindfold till you get here, which is 
the only way to make Ireland tolerable. 1 am told 
the provost has absolutely given away all your pupils. 
Pray God give you grace to be hated by him and all 
such beasts while you live. I excused your bash- 
fulness to the lieutenant, who said he observed and 
imderstood it, and liked you the better. He could 
govern a wiser nation better, but fools are fit to 
deal with fools ; and he seems to mistake our calibre, 
and treats de haut en basj and gives no sugar plums. 
Our Dean Maule and Dr Tisdall have token upon 
them the care of the church, and make wise speeches 
of what they will amend in St Andrew's vestry every 
week, to a crew of parsons of their own kind and im- 
portance. The Primate and \he Earl of Cavan go- 


vera the house of lords. The A. B. D. ♦ attacked 
the same in the castle for giving a good living to a 
certain animal called a Walish black, f which the 
other excused, alleging he was preferred to it by 
Lord Townshend. It is a cant word for a deer stealer. 
This fellow was leader of a gang, and had the ho- 
nour of hanging half a dozen of his fellows in quality 
of informer, which was his merit. If you cannot 
match me that in Italy, step to Muscovy, and from 
thence to the Hottentots. I am just going out of 
town for two days, else I would have filled my paper 
with more nothings. Pray God bless you, and send 
you safe back to this place, which it is a shame for 
any man of worth to call his home. 

Jon. Swift, 


Dec. 10) I7t6. 

I FIND myself the better acquainted with you fo,r 
a long absence, as men are with themselves for a 
long affliction : Absence does but hold off a friend, 
to make one see him more truly. I am infinitely 
more pleased to hear you are coming near us, than 
at any thing you seem to think in my favour; an 

* Archbisliop of Dublin. 

f It fihoold probably be printed Walth. for Waltham Black. 
These were a gang of deer-stealers, who made themselyes notorious 
under this nick-nsune, and were at length broken up in consequenct 
of the murder of a game-keeper. 


opinion which has perhaps been aggrandized by the 
distance or dulness of Ireland^ as objects look larger 
through a medium of fogs : and yet I am infinitely 
pleased with that too. I am much the happier for 
finding (a better thing than our wits) our judgments 
jump, in the notion that all scribblers should be past 
by in silence. To vindicate one's self against such 
nasty slander, is much as wise as it was in your 
countryman, when the people imputed a stink to 
him, to prove the contrary by showing his backside. 
So let Gildon and Philips rest in peace ! What Vir- 
gil had to do with Maevius,* that he should wear 
him upon his sleeve to all eternity, I do not know. 
I have been the longer upon this, that I may pre- 
pare you for the reception both you and your works 
may possibly meet in England. We your true ac- 
quaintance will look upon you as a good man, and 
love you : others will look upon you as a wit, and 
hate you. So you know the worst ; unless you are 
as vindictive as Virgil, or the aforesaid Hibernian. 
I wish as warmly as you, for an hospital in which 
to lodge the despisers of the world ; only I fear it 
would be filled wholly like Chelsea, with maimed 
soldiers, and such as had been disabled in its service. 
I would rather have those that, out of such generous 
principles as you and I, despise it, fly in its face, 
than retire from it. Not that I have much anger 
against the great, my spleen is at the little rogues of 
it; it would vex one more to be knocked on the 
head with a pisspot, than by a thunderbolt. As 
to great oppn^sors» they are like kites or eagles, one 
expects mischief from them ; but to be squirted to 

* Or Pope witli Tibbftld, Concanen, Smedlej^ &c— Dr Wab- 

f TOK. 


death (ais poor Wycherley said to me on his death- 
bed) by apothecaries apprentices, by the under- 
strappers of under-secretaries to secretaries who 
were no secretaries — ^this would provoke as dull a 
dog as Ph — s * himself. 
So much for enemies, now for friends. Mr 

L thinks all this indiscreet: the Doctor not so; 

he loves mischief the best of any good-natured man 
in England. Lord B. is above trifling : when he 
writes of any thing in this world, he is more than 
mortal ; if ever he trifles, it must be when he turns 
a divine. Gay is writing tales for Prince William ; 
I suppose Mr Philips will take this very ill, for 
two reasons, one that he thinks all childish things 
belong to him, and the other, because he will take it 
ill to be taught that one may write things to a child 
without being childish. What have I more to add? 
but that Lord Oxford desires earnestly to see you : 
and that many others whom you do not think the 
worst of, will be gratified by it : none more, be as- 
sured, than 

Yours, &c. 

P. S. Pope and you are very great wits, and I 
think very indifferent philosophers : if you despised 
the world as much as you pretend, and perhaps be- 
lieve, you would not be so angry with it. The 
founder of your sect,* that noble original whom you 

♦ Philips. 

f Very difierent is the opinion that Lord Shaftesbury has 
^Ten of Seneca, the person here alluded to. ^' 'Tis not,'' says 
he finely, ^^ the person, character, or genius, but the style and 
manner of this great man, which we presume to censure. We ac. 
knowledge his noble sentiments and worthy actions: we own 
the patriot and good minister : but we reject the writer. Where 


think it so great an honour to resemble, * was a slave 
to the worst part of the world, to the court ; and 
all his big words were the language of a slighted 
lover, who desired nothing so much as a reconcili- 
ation, and feared nothing so much as a rupture. I 
believe the world has used me as scurviljr as most 
people, and yet I could never find in my heart to 
be thoroughly angry with the simple, false, capri- 
cious thing. I should blush alike, to be discovered 
fond of the world, or piqued at it. Your definition 
of animal rationis capax, instead of the common 
one animale rationale ^ will not bear examination; 
define but reason^ and you will see why your 
distinction is no better than that of the pontiff Cotta, 
betwen mala ratio, and bona ratio. But enough of 
this: make us a visit, and I will subscribe to any 
side of these important questions which you please. 
W^ differ less than you imagine, perhaps, when 
you wished me banished again : but I am not less 
true to you and to philosophy in England, th^ I 
was in France. 

Yours, &c. 


an muTcnal monarchy was actuaUj established, and the interest 
of a whole world concerned ; he surely must hare been esto^ed 
a guardian angel, who, as a prime ipinister, could, for sereral 
years, turn the very worst of courts, and worst-conditioned of all 
princes^ to the fatherly care and just goTemment of mankind. 
Such a minister was Seneca, under an Agrippina and a Nero." 
Characteristics, Vol. iii. p. 23— Dr Wartow. 
♦ 'Seneca*— Wartoh. 




Wednesday, [About 1725.] 

Deab Dean, 
Whbn we were together last, I remember we 
tpoke of a certain stanza, which you suspected me 
parent of, by reason there were some things in it 

J on were sure I should have said twelve years ago. 
f this be a rule, I am certain you are not Dean 
Swift; for twelve years ago your promised letter 
had not been so long in coming to me. All I can 
say is, I wish you had been twelve years ago what 
I wish you now, and that you were now what you 
was twelve years ago to 

Your real friend and humble servant, 

£. Hamilton, 



Dublin, JsD. 1, 1725-6; 

My Lord, 
I AM desired by one Mr Curtis, a clergyman of 


* For this lady the Dean had at one time a great regard, which 
he erinced by the interest he took in her distress, at the untimely 
fate of her husband. See Vol. IH. p. 117. She appears, how- 
ever, afterwards rather te-hare lost his good graces, for at p. 150^ 
he makes mention of her ^^ diabolical temper." 

4* The following three letters illustrate the coldness which sub* 
s'lsted between Swtft and the representatiYe of his first patron^ 


this town, to write to your lordship upon an affair 
he has much at heart, and wherein he has been very 
unjustly and injuriously treated. I do now call to 
. mind what I hear your lordship has written hither, 
that you were pleased many years ago, at my re- 
commendation, to give Dr Ellwood a grant of a 
chamber in the college, which is at your disposal; 
for I had then some credit with your lordship, 
which I am told I have now lost, although I am 
ignorant of the reason. I shall therefore only in- 
form your lordship in one point. When you gave 
that giant, it was understood to continue during 
Dr Ellwood's continuance in tjie college; but, he 
growing to be a senior fellow, and requiring more 
conveniencies, by changing one room, and pur- 
chasing another, got into a more convenient apart- 
ment, and therefore those who now derive under 
the doctor, have, during the doctor's life, the same 
property as if they derived under your lordship; 
just as if one of your tenants should let his holding 
to another during the term of his lease, and take a 
more convenient fann. This is directly the case, 
and must convince your lordship immediately; for 
Mr Curtis paid for the chamber, either to the 
doctor, or to those who derived under him, and till 
the doctor d\^s, or leaves the college, the grant is 

I will say nothing of Mr Curtis's character, be- 
cause the an air is a matter of short plain justice; 
and, besides, because 1 would not willingly do the 
young man an inj ury, as I happened to do to ano- 

Sir William Temple. They are Tery well written on both siwv, 
although Lord Palmcrston might have s|>ared the aogenerous 
reproach of Swift's dependence upon Temple. 



iher whom I recommended to your lordship merely 
for your own service, and whom you afterward re- 
jected, expressing your reason for doing so, that I 
had recommended him, by which you lost the very 
person of the whole kingdom who by his honesty 
and abilities could have been most useful to you in 
your oifices here. But these are some of the refine- 
ments among you great men, which are above my 
low understanding. And, whatever your lordship 
thinks of me, I shall still remain 

^Your Lordship's most obedient 

and most humble servant, 

Jon. Swift. 


Jan. 15, 1735.G. 

Mr Dean, 

I should not give myself the trouble to answer 
your polite letter, were I as unconcerned about 
character and reputation as some are. The prin- 
ciples of justice I hope I have learned from those, 
who always treated you in another manner than 
you do me, even without reason. * 

You charge me with injury and injustice done 
Mr Curtis ; he is still in his chamber ; till he is 
turned out, none is done him, and he is satisfied 
with my proceedings, and the issue I have put it 
on. Your interest with me (which, if ever lost, 
such letters will not regain) procured Dr Ellwood 

* Sir William Temple. 


the use of that chamber, not the power to job it. 
Your parallel case of landlord and tenant will not 
hold, without Dr E^lwood has a writing under my 
hand; if he has, I will fulifil it to a tittle; if not, 
he is as a tenant at will, and when he quits^ I am 
at liberty to dispose of the premises again. 

Whoever told you Mr Stanton was dismissed, 
because you recommended him, told you a most 
notorious falsehood ; he is the young man I sap- 
pose you mean. The true reason was, his demand 
of a large additional salary, more than he had before 
my time ; so he left the office, and was nbt turned 

My desire is to be in charity with all men; could 
I say as much of you, you had sooner inquired into 
this matter, or if you had any regard to a family you 
owe so much to ; but T fear you hugged the raise 
report to cancel all feelings of gratitude that must 
ever glow in a generous breast, and to justify what 
you had declared, that no regard to the family was 
any restraint to you. These refinement^ are past 
my low understanding, and can only be compre- 
hended by you great wits. 

I always thought in you I had a friend in Ireland, 
but find myself mistaken. I am sorry for it; my 
comfort is, it is none of my fault. If you had taken 
any thing amiss, you might have known the truth 
•from me. I shall always be as ready to ask pardon 
when I have offended, as to justify myself when I 
have not. I am. Sir, 

Your very humble servant, 






Jan. 29, 1725.G. 

My Lord, 

I DESIRE you will give yourself the last trouble I 
shall ever, put you to ; I mean of reading this letter. 
I do entirely acquit you of any injury or injustice 
done to Mr Curtis, and if you had read that passage 
relating to his bad usage a second time, you could 
not possibly have so ill understood me. The injury 
and injustice he received were from those who 
claimed a title to his chambers, took away his key^ 
reviled and tlireatened to beat him, with a great 
deal more of the like brutal conduct. Whereupon 
at his request I laid the case before you, as it ap- 
peared to me. And. it would have been very strange 
if, on account of a trifle, and of a person for whom I 
have no concern, further than as he was employed 
by me on the character he bears of piety and learn^ 
ing, I should charge you with injury and injustice 
to him, when I knew from himself, and Mr Read- 
ing, that you were not answerable for either. 

As you state the case of tenant at will, it is C€ir« 

^ This letter was formerly printed from Swift's rough draft, 
which he has dated Jan. 31, and endorsed, ^^ An answer to Lord 
Phimerston's cifil polite letter.'' But Mr Nichols was faToured 
with the loan of the original, from which he adopted sereral ma- 
terial alterations, here retained. The noble lord^ to whom it was 
addressed, has written on the back of it, ^^ Not answered." So 
that heie probably closed for eter Swift's intercourse with the 
family of Temple. 


tain no law can compel you ; but to say the truth, 
I then had not law in my thoughts. 

Now, if what I writ of injury and injustice were 
wholly applied in plain terms to one or two of the 
college here, whose names were below my remem- 
brance, you will consider how I could deserve an 
answer in every line, full of foul invectives, open 
reproaches, jesting flirts, and contumelious terms, 
and what title you have to give me such contume- 
lious treatment who never did you the least injury, 
or received the least obligation from you. I own 
myself indebted to Sir William Temple, for recom- 
mending me to the late king although without suc- 
cess, and for his choice of me to take care of his 
posthumous writings. But I hope you will not 
charge my living in his family as an obligation, for 
I was educated to little purpose, if I retired to his 
house, on any other motives than the benefit of his 
conversation and advice, and the opportunity of 
pursuing my studies. For, being bom to no fortune, 
I was at his death as far to seek as ever, and perhaps 
you will allow that I was of some use to him. This 
I will venture to say, that in the time when I had 
some little credit I did fifty times more for fifty 
people, from whom I never received the least ser- 
vice or assistance. Yet I should not be pleased 
to hear a relation of mine reproaching them for in- 
gratitude, although many of them well deserve it; 
for, thanks to party, 1 have met in both kingdoms 
with ingratitude enough. 

If I have been ill informed in what you mention 
of Mr Stanton, you have not been much better, that 
I declared no regard to the family (as you express it) 
was a restraint to me. I never had the least occasion 
to use any such words. The last time I saw you in 
London was the last intercourse I ever had with the 


family. But having always trusted to my own in* 
Qpcence, I shall not be inquisitive to know my ac* 

When I mentioned my loss of interest with you I 
did it with concern, but I had no resentment, be- 
cause I supposed it only to arise from different sen- 
timents in public matters. 

My lord, if my letter were polite, it was against 
my intentions, and I desire your pardon for it ; if I 
have wit, I will keep it to show when I am angry, 
which at present I am not ; because, though nothing 
can excuse those intemperate words your pen has 
let fall, yet I shall give allowance to a hasty person, 
hurried on by a mistake beyond all rules of decency. 
If a first minister of state had used me as you have 
done^ he should have heard from me in another 
style, because in that case retaliating would be 
thought a mark of courage : But as your lordship is 
not in a situation to do me good, nor, I am sure, of a 
disposition to do me mischief, so I should lose the 
merit of being bold, because I could incur no dan- 
ger, if I gave myself a liberty which your ill usage 
seemed to demand. In this point alone we are ex- 
actly equal, but in wit and politeness I am ready to 
yield to you, as much as I do in titles and estate. 

I have found out one secret, that although you 
call me a great wit, you do not think me so, other- 
wise you would have been too cautious to have writ 
me such a letter. 

You conclude with saying yoU are ready to ask 
pardon where you have offended. Of this I acquit 
you, because I have not taken the offence, but 
whether you will acquit yourself must be left to 
your conscience and honour. 

I have formerly upon occasion been your humble 
servant in Ireland, and should not refuse to be so 



Still ; but you have so useful and excellent a friend 
in Mr Reading, that you need no other, and I hope 
my good opinion of him will not lessen yours. I am^ 
My Lord, your most humble servant, 

Jon. Swift. 


Tvesdaj, Three o'clock, 
April by 1720. 

Dear Sir, 

I HAVE been at your lodgings* this morning, but 

you was out early. Her royal highness- begs the 

honour of a visit from you on Thursday night at 

seven o'clock. You are to be attended by, dear Sir, 

Your most faithful humble servant, 

Jo. Arbuthnot. 

I hope you will not engage yourself at that hour y 
but 1 ^lall see you before that time. 


London, April 10| 1736. 

The ladies have told yOu all my adventures, and 
I hear you are ruining me with dung. 1 have writ 

* Then in London. Tkis was the commencement of the Deta*s 
tcqniintance with Qoeen Caroline, then Princess of Wales; 
which her Majesty dropped upon her accession to the throDe> and 
her reconcikment with Sir Robert Walpole. 


several times to the ladies, and shall soon do so 
again. I send you enclosed the bill of lading for a 
picture that has lain long at se£t; you will be so kind 
to get it out of the custom-house. Mr Medlycott * 
will make it easy, if there should be any difficulties. 
My humble service to Mrs Worrall, and the ladies, 
and all my friends. I thank* God I am in pretty 
good health. I have now company with me; I can 
say no more. 

I hope you are all well. 

I got no voice t at Oxford; but am endeavour-- 
ing for one here. 

JoN. Swift. 



Saturday Eyening. j; 

One of your Irish heroes, that frt>m the extremity 
of our English land came to destroy the wicked 
brazen project^ desires to meet you on Monday 
next at Parson's Green. If you are not engaged, I 
will send my coach for you. 

Sir Robert Walpole, any morning, except Tues- 
day and Thursday, which are his public days, about 
nine in the mornmg, will be glad to see you at his 
London house. On Monday, if I see you, I will give 
you a further account. Your affectionate servant, 


^ Thomas Modljrott, Esq. member for Westminster^ and a 
commissioner of the revenue in Ireland, 
f For his cathedral choir. 
X Endorsed ^ 1726, in sammer.'—N. 



April 289 in6. 

My Lord, 

Your lordship having, at my request, obtained 
for me an hour from Sir Robert Walpole,* I accord- 
ingly attended him yesterday at eight o'clock in the 
morning, and had somewhat more than an hoar's 
conversation with him. Your lordship was this day 
pleased to inquire what passed between that great 
minister and me; to which I gave you some general 
answers, from whence you said you could compre- 
hend little or nothing. 

I had no other design in desiring to see Sir Robert 
Walpole, than to represent the affairs of Ireland to 
him in a true light, not only without any view to 
myself, but to any party whatsoever : and, because I 
understood the affairs of that kingdom tolerably 
well, and observed the representations he had re- 
ceived were such as I could not agree to ; my prin- 
cipal design was to set him right, not only for the 
service of Ireland, but likewise of Elngland, and of 
his own administration. 

I failed very much in my design ; for, I saw he 
had conceived opinions, from the example and prac* 

* This remarluble paper justifies what has been said in the 
author's life as to his interriew with Walpole : for it cannot be 
sapposed, that in a paper to be put into Walpole's own hand, 
the Dean would, contrarj to tmth, have represented a conrer-* 
lation which turned merely on his own wish to be remoTed to 
England, as a remonstrance offered by hhn to the minuter upon 
the grievances of Ireland. The neglect of the adrice here ofieved 
seems to haye given new fnel to SvHft's dislike- of Walpole. 


ticcs of the present, and some former governors, 
which I could not reconcile to the notions I had of 
liberty, a possession always understood by the 
British nation to be the inheritance of a human 

Sir Robert Walpole was pleased to enlarge very 
much upon the subject of Ireland, in a manner so 
alien from what I conceived to be rights and 
privileges of a subject of England, that I did not 
think proper to debafe the matter with him so much 
as I otherwise might, because 1 found it would be in 
vain. I shall, therefore, without entering into dis* 
pnte, make bold to mention to your lordship some 
few grievances of that kingdom, as it consists of a 
people, who, beside a natural right of enjoying the 
privileges of subjects, have also a claim of merit 
from their extraordinary loyalty to the present king* 
and his family. 

First, That all persons born in Ireland are called 
and treated as Irishmen, although their fathers and 
grandfathers were bom in England ; and their pre- 
decessors having been conquerors of Ireland, it is 
humbly conceived they ought to be on as good a foot 
as any subjects of Britain, according to the practice 
of all other nations, and particularly of the Greeks 
find Romans, f 

♦ King George I. 

f Id this passage the Dean limits, in a siagvlar and unworthy 
manner, the claim of the Irish to the priyil^es of British sab« 
jects. It is plain that the natife Irish had no place in his 
thoughts, nor, however oppressed or miserable their condition, 
were they considered, hy any party at this period, as worthy 
' the rights of JBritons. This was owing to the conduct of King 
Wiilhun, during whose administration, Uie native, or ^^ mere Irish," 
fts jthcy were contemptuously entitled, were treated much| like a 
subdued people. 



Secondly, That they are denied the natural liberty 
of exporting their manufactures to any country 
which is not engaged in a war with England. 

Thirdly, That whereas there is a university in 
Ireland, founded by Queen Elizabeth, where youth 
are instructed with a much stricter discipline than 
either in Oxford or Cambridge, it lies under the 
greatest discouragements, by filling all the principal 
employments, civil and ecclesiastical, with persons 
from England, who have neither interest, property, 
acquaintance, nor alliance, in that kingdom ; con- 
trary'to the practice of all other states in Europe 
which are governed by viceroys, at least what hath 
never been used without the utmost discontents of 
the people. 

Fourthly, That several of the bishops sent over to 
Ireland, having been clergymen of obscure condi- 
tion, and without other distinction than that of 
chaplains to the governors, do frequently invite 
over their old acquaintance or kindred, to whom 
they bestow the best preferments in their gift. The 
like may be said of the judges, who take with them' 
one or two dependents, to whom they give their 
countenance, and who, consequently, without other 
merit, grow immediately into the chief business of 
their courts. The same practice is followed by all 
others in civil employments, if they have a cousin, a 
valet, or footman, in their family, born in England. 

Fifthly, That all civil employments, grantable in 
reversion, are given to persons who reside in 

The people of Ireland, who are certainly the most 
loyal subjects in the world, cannot but conceive that 
most of these hardships have been the consequence 
of some unfortunate representations (at least) in for- 
mer times ; and the whole body of the gentry feel 



the effects in a very sensible part, being utterly des- 
titute of all means to make provision for their 
younger sons, either in the church, the law, the re- 
venue, or (of late) in the army : and, in the despe- 
rate condition of trade, it is equally vain to think of 
making them merchants. All they have left is, at 
the expiration of leases, to rack their tenants, which 
they have done to such a degree, that there is not 
one farmer in a hundred through the kingdom who 
can afford shoes or stockings to his children, or to 
eat flesh, or drink any thing better than sour milk 
or water, twice in a year ; so that the whole country, 
except the Scotish plantation in the north, is a scene 
of misery and desolation, hardly to be matched on 
this side Lapland. 

The rents of Ireland are computed to about a 
million and a half, whereof one half million at least 
is spent by lords and gentlemen residing in Eng- 
land, and by some other articles too long to men- 

About three hundred thousand pounds more are 
returned thither on other accounts : and, upon the 
^whole, those who are the best versed in that kind of 
knowledge, agree, that England gains annually by 
Ireland a million at least, which even I could make 
appear beyond all doubt. 

But, as this mighty profit would probably in- 
crease, with tolerable treatment, to half a million 
more, so it must of necessity sink, under the hard- 
ships that kingdom lies at present. 

And whereas Sir Robert Walpole was pleased to 
take notice, how little the king gets by Ireland ; it 
ought, perhaps, to be considered, that the revenues 
and taxes, 1 think, amount to above four hundred 
thousand pounds a-year; and reckoning the riches 
of Ireland, compared with England, to be as one to 


twelve, the king's revenues there would be equal to 
more than five millions here ; which, conaideriog 
the bad payment of rents, from such miserable 
creatures as most of the tenants in Ireland are, will 
be allowed to be as much as such a kingdom can 

The current coin of Ireland is reckoned, at most, 
but five hundred thousand pounds; so that above 
four-fifths are paid every year into the exchequer. 

I think it manifest, that whatever circumstances 
can possibly contribute to make a country poor and 
despicable, are all united with respect to Ireland. 
The nation controlled by laws to which they do not 
consent, disowned by their brethren and country^ 
men, refused the liberty not only of trading with 
their own manufactures, but even their native com- 
modities, forced to seek for justice many hundred 
miles by sea and land, rendered in a manner inca- 
pable of serving their king and country in any em- 
ployment of honour, trust, or profit ; and all this 
without the least demerit : while the governors sent 
over thither can possibly have no affection to the 
people, further than what is instilled into them by 
their own justice and love of mankind, which do not 
always operate ; and whatever they please to repre- 
sent hither is never called in question. 

Whether the representatives of such a people»thus 
distressed and laid in the dust, when they meet in 
a parliament, can do the public business with thai 
cheerfulness which might be expected from free-bom 
subjects, would be a question in any other country, 
except that unfortunate island ; the English inhabi- 
tants wherei»f have given more and greater examples 
of their ioyalty anjl dutifulness than can be shown 
in any other part of the world. 

What part of these grievances may be thongbt 


proper to be redressed by so wise and great a mini- 
ster as Sir Robert Walpole, he perhaps will please 
to consider : especially because they have been all 
brought upon that kingdom since the revolution ; 
which, however, is a blessing annually celebrated 
there with the greatest zeal and sincerity. 

I most humbly entreat your lordship to give this 
paper to Sir Robert Walpole, and desire him to read 
it, which he may do in a few minutes. I am, with 
the greatest respect, . my Lord, 
Your lordship's 

most obedient humble servant, 

Jon. Swift. 


London, July 8, 172({« 

Good Doctor, 
I HAVE had two months of great uneasiness at the 
in account of Mrs Johnson's health, and as it is 
usual, feared the worst that was possible, and doubted 
all the good accounts that were sent me. I pray God 
her danger may warn her to be less wilful, ana more 
ready to fall into those measures that her friends and 
physician advise her to. I had a letter two days ago 
from Archdeacon Wall, dated six days before yours, 
wherein .he gives me a better account than you do, 
and therefore I apprehend she hath not mended 
since ; and yet he says he can honestly tell me she 
is now much better. Pray thank the archdeacon, 
and tell him he is to have a share in this letter; and 
therefore I will save him the trouble of another. 


Tell him also, that I never asked for my L. 1 000, ♦ 
which he hears I have got, though I mentioned it 
to the princess the last time I saw her ; but 1 bid 
her tell Walpole,t I scorned to ask him for it. Bat 
blot t>ut this passage, and mention it to no one ex- 
cept the ladies ; because I know Mrs Johnson would 
be pleased with it, and I will qot write to them till I 
hear from them; therefore this letter is theirs as 
well as yours. The archdeacon further says, that 
Mrs Johnson has not tasted claret for several 
months, but once at his house. This I dislike. I 
cannot tell who is the fourth of your friends, unless 
it be yourself : I am sorry for your new laborious 
studies, but the best of it is, they will not be your 
own another day. I thank you for your new style, 
and most useful quotations. I am only concerned, 
that although you get the grace of the house, you 
will never get the grace of the town, but die plain 
Sheridan, or Tom at most, because it is a syllable 
shorter than doctor. However, 1 will give it you 
at length in the superscription, and people will so 
wonder how the news could come and return so 
quick to and from England, especially if the wind 
be fair when the packet goes over ; and let me warn 
you to be very careful in sending for your letters 
two days after the commencement. You lost one 
post by my being out of town ; for I came hither 
to-day, and shall stay three or four upon some busi* 

* Swift had an order on the exchequer for that sam prerions 
to the death of Qoeen Anne, but it was neyer paid. He allodes 
to it in a letter to Pope, SOth October 1727, where he says, 
^^ 1 forgive Sir Robert Walpole a thousand pounds, mulia gt* 

i Sir Robert Walpole, afterward Earl of Orfo^d.— H. 


ness,andthen go back to Mr Pope's, and there con- 
tinue till August, and then come to town till I begin 
my journey to Ireland, which I propose the middle 
of August. My old servant Archy * is here ruined 
and starving, and has pursued me and wrote me a 
letter, but I have refused to see him. Our friend at 
the castle wVit to me two months ago to have a sight 
of those papers, &c. of which I brought away a copy. 
I have answered him, that whatever papers I have 
are conveyed from one place to another through 
nine or ten hands, and that I have the key. If he 
should mention anything of papei*s in general, either 
to you or the ladies, and that you can bring it in, I 
would have you and them to confirm the same story, 
and laugh at my humour in it, &c. My service 
to Dr Delany, Dr Helsham, the Grattans, and 
jTacksons. There is not so despised a creature here 
as your friend f with the soft verses on children. I 
heartily pity him. This is the first time I was ever 
weary of England, and longed to be in Ireland; but 
it is because go I must ; for I do not love Ireland 
better, nor England, as England, worse ; in short, 
you all live in a wretched, dirty doghole and prison, 
but it is a place good enough to die in. I can tell you 
pne thing, that I have had the fairest offer made me 
of a settlement here that one can imagine, which if 
I were ten years younger I would gladly accept, 
within twelve miles of London, and in the midst of 
my friends. But I am too old for new schemes, and 
especially sucn as would bridle me in my freedoms 
and liberalities. But so it is, that I must be forced 

* His butler, meDtioDed in the verses on Stella's b^th-day, 
} 722-3^ Vol. XIV. p. 484. 
+ Ambrose Philips;— H. 


to get home, partly by stealth, and partly by force. 
I have indeed one temptation for this winter, much 
stronger, wliich is of a fine house and garden, and 
park, and wine cellar in France, to pass away winter 
in, ♦ • and if Mrs Johnson were not so out of order 
I would certainly accept of it; and I wish she could 
go to Montpellier at the same time. You see I am 
grown visionary, and therefore it is time to hare 
done. Adieu. 


Twickenham, July 15, 1726. 

I WISH you would send me a common bill in form 
upon any banker for one hundred pounds, and I will 
wait for it, and in the meantime borrow where I can. 
What you tell me of Mrs Johnson I have long ex- 
pected, with great oppression and heaviness of heart. 
We have been perfect friends these thirty-five years. 
Upon my advice they both came to Ireland, and 
have been ever since my constant companions y and 
the remainder of my life will be a very melancholy 
scene, when one of them is gone, whom I most 
esteemed, upon the score of every good quality that 
can possibly recommend a human creature. I have 
^hese two months seei^ through Mrs Dingley's dis- 
guises, t And indeed, ever since I left you, my 
heart has been so sunk, tiiat I have not been the 

* Lord Boliogbrokc inrited the Dean to spend a winter with 
him at his house in Franct:, on the banks of the Loire — if. 

+ Probably endeayouring to conceal Mrs Johnson^s danger^ in 
tenderness to the Dean.— 11. 


same man, nor ever shall be again ; but drag on a 
wretched life, till it shall please God to call me away; 
I must tell yoU) as a friend, that if you have reason 
to believe Mrs Johnson cannot hold out till my 
return, I would not think of coming to Ireland;* ai^ 
in that case, I would expect of you, in the beginning 
of September, to renew my license for another half 
year ; which time I will spend in some retirement 
far from London, till I can be in a disp>osition of ap* 
pearing after an accident that must be so fatal to my 
quiet. I wish it could be brought about that she 
might make her will. Her intentions are to leave 
the interest of all her fortune to her mother and 
sister, during their lives, and afterward to Dr Ste- 
phen's hospital, to purchase lands for such uses there 
as she designs. Think how I am disposed while 
I write this, and forgive the inconsistencies. I \TOuld 
not for the universe be present at such a trial of see- 
ing her depart. She will be among friends, that 
upon her own account and great worth, will tend 
her with all possible care, where I should be a 
trd^ble to her, and the greatest torment to myself. 
In ^e the matter should be desperate, I would have 
you advise, if they come to town, that they should 
be lodged in some airy healthy part, and not in the 
deanery : which besides, you know, cannot but be a 
very improper thing for that house to breathe her 
last in. * This I leave to your discretion, and I con- 
jure you to bum this letter immediately, without 
telling the contents of it to any person alive. Pray 

* This hint Swift repeated upon another occasion. Eren dur. 
ing the extremity of distress which he sustained at the apprehen. 
sion of Stella*s death, he remained stubbornly fixed, that^ lifing 
or dying, their marriage should remain concealed. 


write to me every week, that I may know what steps 
to take ; for I am determined not to go to IrelaiMlt 
to find her jast dead, or dying. Nothing but ex- 
tremity coald make me so familiar with those ter- 
rible words, applied to such a dear friend. Let her 
know I have bought her a repeating gold watch, for 
her ease in winter nights. I designed to have sur- 
prised her with it ; but now I would have her know 
it, that she may see how my thoughts are always to 
make her easy. 

I am of opinion that there is not a greater folly 
than to contract too great and intimate a frienddup, 
which must always leave fhe survivor miserable. 

On the back of Burton's note there was written 
the account of Mrs Johnson's sickness. Pray, ia 
your next avoid that mistake, and leave the backside 

When you have read this letter twice, and retain 
what I desire, pray bum it ; and let all I have said 
lie only in your breast. 

Pray write every week. I have (till I know fur- 
ther) fixed on August the fifteenth to set out for Ire* 
land. 1 shall continue or alter my measures accord- 
ing to your letters. Adieu. 

Direct your letters still to Mrs Rice, &c. 

Pray tell Mr Dobbs of the college, that I received 
his letter ; but cannot possibly answer it, which I 
certainly would, if I had materials. 

As to what you say about promotion, you will find 
it was given immediately to Maule, ^ as I am told; 

* Dr Henrj Maule, promoted to the bishoprick of Clojn^ 
Sept 6, 1720 ; translated to Dromore, M/iTch 20, 1731, and to 
Meath, May M, 1744. Thb most worthj maa was one of the 
first promoters of the protestant charter schools in Irehtnd for the 

• •• 


ind I aisure you I had qo offers, nor would accept 
hem. My behaviour to those in powe^ has been di* 
ectly contrary, since I came here; I would rather 
lave good news from you than Canterbury, though 
I were given me upon my own terms^ 



Twitenham, near London^ 
July 20, 1726. 

Dbar Jim, 

I HAD a letter from you three months ago, with 
n account of a fine picture you had sent me, which 
} now safe in Ireland, for which I heartily thank 
'ou, and Robert Arbuthnot swears it is an original. 

did not answer you because I was told you were in 
action. I had yours of July 12, N. S. yesterday; 
nd since you are fixed at Paris, I venture to send 
ou this, though Robert Arbuthnot be here. He 
tas lately married a lady among iIs of L.QOO a-year, 
nd I think will soon go to France ; but I have 
hiefly lived about two months with Mr Pope, since 
lie town grew empty. I shall leave him the begin- 
ting of August, and so settle my affairs to be in Ire^ 
md by the end of that months for my license of 
alf a year will be then out. I came here to see my 
Id friends, and upon some business I had with two 

ioeption and education of children of papists, which have met 
ith great success — F. The Dean alludes to the general cficpec. 
ition which was entertained, that he would gain some promotion 
trough the favour of the Princess of Wales. It was even re* 
dried, that he had been offered the vacant bishoprick of Clojrne. 
e the next letter. 


of them, which^ however, proves lobe of little con* 
sequence. The people in power have been civil 
enough to me ; many of them have visited me. I 
was not able to withstand seeing the princess, be« 
cause she had commanded, that whenever I came 
hither, as the news said I intended, that I should 
wait on her. I was latterly twice with the chief mi- 
nister ', the first time by invitation, and the second 
at my desire for an hour, wherein we differed in 
every point : But sdl this made a great noise, and 
soon got to Ireland, from whence upon the late death 
of the Bishop of Cloy ne, it was said I was offered to 
succeed, and I received many letters upon it, bat 
there was nothing of truth, for I was neither offered, 
nor would have received, except upon conditions 
which would never be granted. For I absolutely 
broke with the first minister, and have never seen 
him since, and I lately complained of him to the 
princess, because I knew she would tell him. I am, 
besides, all to pieces with the lord-lieutenant, wh<kn 
I treated very roughly, and absolutely refused to 
dine with him. So that, dear Jim, you see how 
little I shall be able to assist you with the great ones 
here, unless some changeof ministry should happen. 
Yet when a new governor goes over, it is hard if I 
cannot be some way instrumental. I have given 
strict charge to Mr Pope to receive you with all 
kindness and distinction. He is perfectly well re- 
ceived by all the people in power, and he loves to do 
good ; and there can hardly go over a governor to 
whom he may not, by himself or friends, strongly 
recommend you. 

I fear I shiadl have more than ordinary reasons to 
wish you a near neighbour to me in Ireland ; and 
that your company will be more necessary than ever, 
when I tell you that I never was in so great a dejec- 


tion of spirits. For I lately received a letter from 
Mr Worrall, that one of the two oldest and dearest 
friends I have in the world is in so desperate a con- 
dition of health, as makes me expect every post to 
hear of her death. It is the younger of the two, 
with whom I have lived in the greatest friendship for 
thirty-three years. I know you will share in my 
trouble, because there were few persons whom I be- 
lieve you more esteemed. For my part, as I value 
life very little, so the poor casual remains of it, after 
such a loss, would be a burden that I must heartily 
beg God Almighty to enable me to bear ; and I 
think there is not a greater folly than that of entering 
into too strict and particular a friendship, with the 
loss of which a man must be absolutely miserable ; 
but especially at an s^ge when it is too late to engage 
in a new friendship. Besides, this was a person of 
my own rearing and instructing, from childhood; 
who excelled in every good quality that can possibly 
accomplish a human creature. — ^They have hitherto 
writ me deceiving letters, but Mr Worrall has been 
60 just and prudent as to tell me the truth ; which, 
however racking, is better than to be struck on the 
fudden. — Dear Jim, pardon me, I know not what I 
am saying ; but believe me that violent friendship is 
much more lasting, and as much engaging, as violent 
love. Adieu. 

If this accident should happen before I set out, I 
believe I shall stay this winter in England; where it 
will be at least easier to find some repose, than upon 
the spot. 

If I were your adviser, 1 would say one thing 

l^ainst my own interest ; that if you must leave your 

-college, for the reason you hint at, I think it would 

be better to live in England on your own estate, 

^nd the addition of one thousand pounds, and trust 

VOL. xvn. F 


to industry and friends, and distinction here, than 
pass your days in that odious country, and among 
that odious people. You can live in a thrifty mo- 
derate way, and thrift is decent here ; and you can- 
not but distinguish yourself. You have the advan- 
tage to be a native of London ; here you will be a 
freeman, and in Ireland a slave. Here your compe- 
titors will be strangers; there every rascal, your 
contemporary, will get over your head by the merit 
of parly. — Farewell again ; though my head is now 
disturbed, yet I have had these thoughts about you 
long ago. 




Though you are probably very indifferent where 
I am, or what 1 am doing, yet I resolve to believe 
the contrary. I persuade myself, that you have 
sent at least fifteen times within this fortnight to 

* From this address to the three poets, then residing together, 
under the name of Yahooiy it is plain that Swift's manuscript of 
Guliifer's Trayels had been canyassed by the brotherhood ; and 
that Gay*s ignorance with respect to the author, as expressed in 
his letter of l/th Nofcniber 17^6, was entirely affected. Yet 
Mr Sheridan, in his Life of Swift^ st-ems to haye thought that 
Gay and Pope were really under some donbt concerning the au- 
thor of Gullirer's Travels upon the first appearance of that sin- 
gular production. 

+ John Gay — H. 


Dawley farm, * and that you are extremely morti- 
fied at my long silence. To relieve you therefore 
from this great anxiety of mind, I can do no less 
than write a few lines to you ; and I please myself 
beforehand with the vast pleasure which this epistle 
must needs give you. That I may add to this plea- 
sure, and give you further proofs of my beneficent 
temper, 1 will likewise inform you, that I shall be 
in your neighbourhood again by the end of next 
week ; by which time I hope that Jonathan's ima- 
gination of business, will be succeeded by some ima- 
gination more becoming a professor of that divine 
science, la bagatelle. Adieu, Jonathan, Alexander, 
John ! Mirth be with you. 

From the Banks of the SeyerD, 
Jaljr23, 1726. 


July 27, 1726.+ 

I HAVE yours just now of the 19th, and the ac- 
count you give me, is nothing but what I have some 
time expected with the utmost agonies ; and there 
is one aggravation of constraint, that where I am I 

* The conntry residence of Lord Bolingbroke, near Cranford 
in Middlesex. — H. 

+ This was written from Mr Pope's at Twickenham. But 
Swift's agony of mind, so forcibly expressed in the following 
letter, rendered him unable to bear the constraint which eyen 
Pope's society imposed on him, and shortly before his departure 
for Irehind, he left Twickenluun and wont into lodgings in Loo* 


am forced to put on an easy countenance. It was at 
this time the best office your friendship could do, 
not to deceive me. I was violently bent all last 
year, as I believe you remember, that she should go 
to Montpellier, or Bath, orTunbridge. I entreated, 
if there was no amendment, they might both come 
to London. But there was a fatality, although 1 in- 
deed think her stamina could not last much longer, 
when I saw she could take no nourishment. I look 
upon this to be the greatest event that can ever hap- 
pen to me ; but all my preparations will not suffice 
to make me bear it like a philosopher, nor altogether 
like a Christian. There hath been the most intimate 
friendship between us from our childhood, and the 
greatest merit on her side, that ever was in one hu- 
man creature toward another. Nay, if I were now 
near her, I would not see her ; I could not behave 
myself tolerably, and should redouble her sorrow. 
Judge in what a temper of mind I write this. The 
very time I am writing, I conclude the fairest soul 
in the world hath left its body. Confusion ! that 
1 am this moment called down to a visitor, when 
I am in the country, and not in my power to deny 
myself I have passed a very constrained hour, and 
now return to say I know not what. I have been 
long weary of the w-orld, and shall for my small re- 
mainder of years be weary of life, having for ever 
lost that conversation, which could only make it to- 
lerable. I fear while you are reading this, you will 
be shedding tears at her funeral : she loved you well, 
and a great share of the little merit 1 have with you, 
is owing to her solicitations. 

1 writ to vou about a week a^ro.* 

* Soon after the date of this letter the Dean went back to Ire. 
land ; but >irs Johnson rerovt'ringa moderate state of health, he 
returned again to £ngland the beginning of the year 1727.^-U* 



London, August 4, 1726. 

1 HAD rather live in forty Irelaiids than under the 
frequent disquiets of hearing you are out of order. 
I always apprehend it most after a great dinner; 
for the least transgression of yours, if it be only two 
bits and one sup more than your stint, is a great de- 
bauch; for which you certainly pay more than 
those sots who are carried dead drunk to bed. My 
Lord Peterborow spoiled every body's dinner, but 
especially mine, Vith telling us that you were de- 
tained by sickness. Pray let me have three lines 
under any hand or pothook that will give me a better 
account of your health : which concerns me more 
than others, because I love and esteem you for rea- 
sons that most others have little to do with, and 
would be the same although you had never touched 
a pen, further than with writing to me. 

I am gathering up my luggage, and preparing for 
my journey; I will endeavour to think of you as 
little as I can, and when I write to you, I will strive 
not to think of you : this I intend in return to your 
kindness; and further, I know nobody has dealt 
with me so cruelly as you, the consequences of 
which usage I fear will last as long as my life, for 
so long shall 1 be (in spite of ipy heart) 

Entirely yours, 

Jon. Swift. 



London, August 6, 172tf. 

At the same time that I had your letter, with the 
bill, (for which I thank you) I received ai&ther 
from Dr Sheridan, both fall of the melancholy ac- 
count of our friend. The doctor advises me to go 
over at the time I intended, which I now design to 
do, and to set out on Monday the fifteenth from 
hence. However, if any accident should happen 
to me, that you do not find me come over on the 
first of September, 1 would have you renew my 
license of absence from the second of September, 
which will be the day that my half year will be out : 
and since it is not likely that you can answer this, 
so as to reach me before I leave London, I desire 
you will write to me, directed to Mrs Kenah^ in 
Chester, where I design to set up, and shall hardly 
be there in less than a fortnight from this time; and 
if I should then hear our friend was no more, I might 
probably be absent a month or two in some parts 
of Derbyshire or Wales. However, you need not 
renew the license till the first of September ; and, 
if I come not, I will write to you from Chester. 
This unhappy affair is the greatest trial I ever had ; 
and I think you are unhappy in having conversed so 
much with that person under such circumstances. 
Tell Dr Sheridan I had his letter, but care not to 
answer it. I wish you would give me your opinion, 
at Chester, whether I shall come over or not. I 
shall be there, God willing, on Thursday, the eigh- 
teenth instant. This is enough to say, in my pre- 
sent situation. I am, &c. 

JoN. Swift. 


My humble service and thanks to Mrs Worrall 
for the care of our friend, which I shall never for- 


Aogust 15, 17W. 

This is Saturday, and on Monday I set out for 
Ireland. I desired you would send me a letter to 
Chester. I suppose I shall be in Dublin, with mo- 
derate fortune, in ten or eleven days hence ; for I 
will go by Holyhead. I shall stay two days at Ches- 
ter, unless I can contrive to have mv box sent after 
me. I hope I shall be with you by the end of Au- 
gust ; but however, if I am not with you by the se- 
cond of September, which is the time that my license 
is out, I desire you will get me a new one ; for I 
would not lie at their mercy, though I know it sig- 
nifies nothing. I expect to be very miserable when 
I come ; but I shall be. prepared for it. L desired 
you would write to me to Chester, which I hope 
you will do: and pray hinder Dr Sheridan from 
writing to me any more. 

This is all I have to say to you at present. 

I am, &c. JoN. Swift. 


August ^9, 1796. 

Many a short sigh you cost me the day I left 
you, and many more you will cost me, till the day 



you retarn. I really walked about like a man ba^ 
nished, and when I came home, found it no home. 
It is a sensation like that of a limb lopped off; one 
is trying every minute unawares to use it, and finds 
it is not. I may say you have used me more cruelly 
than you have done any other man : you have made 
it more impossible for me to live at ease without 
ou : habitude itself would have done that, if I had 
ess friendship in my nature than I have. Beside 
my natural memory of you, you have made a local 
one, which presents you to me in every place I fre- 
quent : I shall never more think of Lord Cobham'i;, 
the woods of Ciceter, * or the pleasing prospect of 
Byberry,t but your idea must be joined with them: 
nor see one seat in my own garden, or one room in 
my own house, without a phantom of you, sitting 
or walking before me. I travelled with you to Ches- 
ter, I felt the extreme heat of the weather, the inns, 
the roads, the confinement and closeness of the un- 
easy coach, and wished a hundred times 1 had either 
a deanery or a horse in my gift. In real truth, I 
have felt my soul peevish ever since with all about 
me, from a warm uneasy desire after you. I am gone 
out of myself to no purpose, and cannot catch you. 
Inhiat in pedes was not more properly applied to a 
poor dog after a hare, than to me with regard to your 
departure. I wish I could think no more of it, but 
lie down and sleep till we meet again, and let that 
day (how far soever off it be) be the morrow. Since 
I cannot, may it be my amends that every thing you 
wish may attend yoii where you are, and that you 
may find every friend you have there, in the state 
you wish him or her; so that your visits to us may 

♦ Cirencester. + Byburry. — Bowles. 


have no other effect than the progress of a rich man 
to a remote estate, which he finds greater than he 
expected ; which knowledge only serves to make 
him live happier where he is, with no disagreeable 
prospect if ever he should choose to remove. May 
this be your state till it become what I wish. But 
indeed I cannot express the warmth with which I 
wish you all things, and myself you. Indeed you 
are engraved elsewhere than on the cups you sent 
me (with so kind an inscription,) and I might throw 
them into the Thames without injury to the giver. 
I am not pleased with them, but take them very 
kindly too : and had I suspected any such usage 
from you I should have enjoyed your company less 
than 1 really did, for at this rate I may say 

^' Ncc tecum possum TiTere, ncc sine te." 

I will bring you over just such another present, 
when I go to the deanery of St Patrick's ; which I 
promise you to do, if ever I am enabled to return 
your kindness. Donarem paterasy &c. Till then 
ni drink (or Gay shall drink) daily healths to you, 
and I will add to your inscription the old Roman 
vow for years to come, VOTIS X. VOTIS XX. 
My mother's age gives me authority to hope it for 
yours. Adieu. 


Sftptember 1, 1726. 


Being perpetually teased with the remembrance 

* This celebrated, yet unhappy lady, was ^ister to the first 
Earl of Buckinghamshire, and wife of the Honourable Charles 


of you, by the sight of your ring on my finger, my 
patience at last is at an end ; and in order to be re- 
venged, I have sent you a piece of Irish plaid, made 
in imitation of the Indian, wherein our workmen are 
grown so expert, that in this kind of stuff they are 
said to excel that which comes from the Indies ; and 
because our ladies are too proud to wear what is 
made at home, the workman is forced to run a gold 
thread through the middle, and sell it as Indian. 
But I ordered him to leave out that circumstance, 
that you may be clad in Irish stuff, and in my livery. 
But I beg you will not tell any parliament-man from 
whence you had that plaid ; otherwise, out of malice, 
they will make a law to cut off all our weavers fin- 
gers. I must likewise tell you, to prevent your pride, 
my intention is to use you very scurvily ; for my 
real design is, that when the princess asks you where 
you got that fine nightgown, you are to say, that it 

Howard, who succeeded to the Earldom of Suffolk, by the death 
of his brother. She was lady of the bed-chamber to the Princess 
of Wales, afterwards Qaeen Caroline, and had the misfortune to 
please the prince, afterwards George II. Her situation must 
hare been sufficiently uncomfortable, for her husband was worth- 
less and brutal, her royal lorer neither generous nor amiable, and 
her mistress too jealous of power to permit any share of it to the 
farourite, though she conniTed at her husband's gallantry. Mrs 
Howard is said to hare obtained the good graces of the Prince of 
Wales, from being the confidante of his unsuccessful attachment 
to Miss Bellanden, afterwards Duchess of Argyll. As she had 
all the appearance of inflnenoe, many courtiers sought her farour 
as a sare road to promotion. These were uniformly disappoint* 
ed, for the influence of Queen Caroline, always most powerful 
with her husband, was secretly eierted against those who chose 
thb contraband path to favour. The Intercession in faroar of 
Gay is supposed to hare made shipwreck upon this concealed 
rock. Many curious anecdotes respecting Mrs Howard, after- 
wards Lady Suffolk^ are to be found in Horace Walpole's Remi* 


is an Irish plaid sent jrou by the Dean of St Pa- 
trick's; who, with his most humble duty to her 
royal highness, is ready to make her such another 
present, at the terrible expense of eight shillings 
and threepence per yard, if she will descend to ho- 
nour Ireland with receiving and wearing it. And 
in recompence I, who govern the vulgar, will take 
care to have her royal highness's health drunk by 
five hundred weavers as an encourager of the Irish 
manufactory. And I command you to add, that I 
am no courtier, nor have any thing to ask. May 
all courtiers imitate me in that ! I hope the whole 
royal family about you is in health. Dr Arbuthnot 
lately mortified me with an account of a great pain 
in yottr head. I believe no head that is good for 
any thing is long without some disorder, at least 
that is the best argument I had for any thing that is 
good in my own. 

I pray God preserve you ; and entreat you to 
believe that I am, with great respect. Madam, 

Your most obedient and mosl obliged servant, 

Jon. Swift. 


September 3. 17^6. 

Yours to Mr Gay gave me greater satisfaction 
than that to me (though that gave me a great deal) ; 
for, to hear you were safe at your journey*s end, 
exceeds the account of your fatigues while in the 
way to it ; otherwise believe me, every tittle of each 
is important to me, which sets any one thing before 
my eyes that happens to you. I writ you a long 


letter, which I guess reached you the day after your 
arrival. Since then I had a conference with Sir Ro- 
bert Walpole,* who expressed his desire of haying 
seen you again before you left us ; he said he ob« 
served a willingness in you to live among us; which 
I did not deny : but at the same time told him, you 
had no such design in your coming this time, which 
was merely to see a few of those you loved; but that 
indeed all those wished it, and particularly Lord 
Peterborow and myself, who wished you loved Ire- 
land less, had you any reason to love England more. 
I said nothing but what I think would induce any 
man to be as fond of you as I, plain truth, did they 
know either it or you. I' cannot help thinking, 
(when I consider the whole short list of our friends,) 
that none of them except you and I are qualified 
for the mountains of Wales. The doctor f goes to 
cards. Gay to court ; one loses money, one loses 
his time ^ another of our friends labours to be un- 
ambitious, but he labours in an unwilling soil. One 
lady you like has too much of France J to be fit for 
Wales : Another § is too much a subject to princes 
and potentates, to relish that wild taste of liberty 
and poverty. Mr Congreve is too sick to bear a 
thin air ; and she || that leads him too rich to enjoy 

* Walpole perhaps foresaw an approaching union between the 
Dean and Pulteney, and was probably not unwilling to gire open- 
ing to a reconciliation, which might prerent soch a coalition. 
But the hint, if it meant any thing serious, was giren too late; 
for, as appears from the conclusion of this letter, a correspoiu 
dence was already opened between Swift and Pulteney. 

-f Arbothnot. 

J^ The Marchioness de Vilette, Lord Bolingbroke'f second 

§ Mrs Howard. 
H The Duchess of Marlborough was long a patroness of Con^ 


any thing. Lord Pcterborow can go to any cli- 
mate, but never stay in any. Lord Bathurst is too 
great a husbandman to like barren hills, except they 
are his own to improve. Mr Bethel indeed is too 
good and too honest to live in the world, but yet it 
is fit, for its example, he should. We are left to 
ourselves in my opinion, and may live where we 
please, in Wales, Dublin, or Bermudas ; and for me, 
I assure you 1 love the world so well, and it loves 
me so well, that I care not in what part of it I pass 
the rest of my days. I see no sunshine but in the 
face of a friend. 

I had a glimpse of a letter of yours lately, by 
which I find you are (like the vulgar) apter to think 
well of people out of power, than of people in 
power ; perhaps it is a mistake, but however there 
is something in it generous. Mr Pulteney takes it 
extreme kindly, I can perceive, and he has a great 
mind to thank you for that good opinion, for which 
I believe he has only to thank his ill fortune : for if 
I am not in an error, he would rather be in power 
than out, * 

To show you how fit I am to live in the moun-* 
tains, I will with great truth apply to myself an old 
sentence. " Those that are in, may abide in ; and 
those that are out, may abide out : yet to me, those 
that are in, shall be as those that are out ; and those 
that are out, shall be as those that are in." 

greve. How much she merited the character here bestowed upon 

her by Pope, appears from the miserable ennui expressed in her 

own diary* 

* Pope seems already to hare anticipated those points of Pulte. 

ney's character, which he afterwards expressed by the celebrated 


^ He imunf a patriot to subside a petr.* 


I am indiflTerent as to all those matters, but I miss 
you as much as I did the first day, when (with a 
short sigh) I parted. Wherever you are, or on the 
mountains of Wales, or on the coast of Dublin, 

<< Ta mihi, sen magni saperas jam saxa TimaTi, 
SWe onim Illyrici legis aequoris," * 

I am, and ever shall be. 

Yours, &c. 


Loodon, Sept. 3, 17S0« 

Dbae Sir, 
I RECEIVED the favour of your kind letter at my 
Lord Chetwynd's ; and though you had so much 
goodness as to forbid my answering it at that time ; 
yet I should be inexcusable, now 1 have perfectly 
recovered my health and strength, if I did not re- 
turn you my very hearty thanks for your concern for 
me during my illness. Though our acquaintance 
has not been of long date, yet I think I may venture 
to assure you, that even among your old friends, 
you have not many who have ajuster regard for 
your merit than I have. I could wish that those 
who are more able to serve you than I am, had the 
same desire of doing it. And yet methinks, now I 
consider it, and reflect who they are, 1 should be 
sorry they had the merit of doing so right a thing. 

* Whether TimaTas or the lUyriao coast, 
W'hate?er land or sea thy presence boast. 

Drtdeji's Virgiu 


J well as I wish you, I would rather not have you 
ovided for yet, than provided for by those that I 
» not like. Mr Pope tells me that we shall see 
m in spring. When we meet again, I flatter my- 
If we shall not part so soon ; and I am in hopes 
>u will allow me a larger share of your company 
an you did. All I can say to engage you to come 
little oftener to my house, is, to promise, that you 
lall not have one dish of meat at my table so dis- 
used, but you shall easily know what it is. ^ You 
tall have a cup of your own small beer and wine 
ixed together ; you shall have no women at table^ 
you do not like them, and no men, but such as 
ke you. I wished mightily to be in London before 
)u left it, having something which I would wil- 
igly have communicated to you, that I do not 
link so discreet to trust to a letter. * Do not let 
our expectation be raised, as if it was a matter of 
ly great consequence : it is not that, though I 
lould be mighty glad you knew it, and perhaps I 
lay soon find a way of letting you do so. 

Our parliament, they now say, is not to meet till 
fker Christmas. The chief business of it being to 
iye money, it may be proper the ministers should 
now, a little before it meets, how much further 
ley have run the nation in debt, that they may 
rudently conceal or provide what they think fit. 

am told, that many among us begin, to grumble, 
lai England should be obliged to support the charge 
f a very expensive war, while all the other powers 

* Probably something relatiog to the establishment of the 
•raftsman, a periodical paper, through which Palteoey long as. 
uled the ministry of Sir Robert WalpoJe^ find to which Swif 
ccasionally lent his powerf nl assistanoc. 


of Europe are in peace. But I will enter no further 
into public matters, taking it for granted, that a let- 
ter directed to you, and franked by me, cannot fail 
of raising the curiosity of some of our vigilant mi- 
nisters, and that they will open it; though we know 
it is not customary for them so to do. Mrs Pulte- 
ney is very much your humble servant, and I am, 
with great truth, Sir, 

Your most obedient humble servant, 



London, Sept. 16, 17^. 

Dear Sir, 
Since I wrote last, I have been always upon the 
ramble. I have been in Oxfordshire with the Duke 
and Duchess of Queensberry, and at Petersham, and 
wheresoever they would carry me : but as they will 
go to Wiltshire without me, on Tuesday next, for 
two or three months, I believe I shall then have 
finished my travels for this year, and shall not go 
further from London, than now and then to Twick- 
enham. I saw Mr Pope on Sunday, who has lately 
escaped a very great danger ; but is very much 
wounded across his right hand. Coming home in 
the dark, about a week ago, alone in my Lord Bo- 
lingbroke's coach from Dawley, he was overturned, 
where a bridge has been broke down, near Whitton, 
about a mile from his own house. He was thrown 
into the river, with the glasses of the coach up, and 
was up to the knots of his perriwig in water. The 
footman broke the glass to draw him out; by which, 
he thinks, he received the cut across his hand. He 


was afraid he should have lost the use of his little 
finger and the next to it ; but the surgeon, whom 
he sent for last Sunday from London to examine it, 
told him that his fingers were safe, that there were 
two nerves cut but no tendon. He was in very 
good health, and very good spirits, and the wound 
in a fair way of being soon healed. * The instruc- 
tions you sent me to communicate to the doctor 
about the singer, I transcribed from your own let- 
ter, and sent to him ; for at that time, he was going 
every other day to Windsor park to visit Mr Con- 
greve, who has been extremely ill, but is now reco- 
vered, so that I was prevented from seeing of him 
by going out of town. I dined and supped on Mon- 
day last with Lord and Lady Bolingbroke, at Lord 
Berkeley's, at Cranford, and returned to London, 
with the Duke and Duchess of Queensberry, on 
Tuesday, by two o'clock in the morning. You are 
remembered always with great respect by all your 
acquaintance, and every one of them wishes for 
your return. The lottery begins to be drawn on 
Monday next, but my week of attendance will be 
the first in October. I am obliged to follow the 
engravers to make them dispatch my plates for the 
fables ; for without it, I find they proceed but very 
slowly. I take your advice in this, as I wish to do 
in all things, and frequently revise my work, in or- 
der to finish it as well as I can. Mr Pulteney takes 
the letter you sent him in the kindest manner*, and 
I believe he is, except a few excursions, fixed in 
town for the winter. As for the particular affair 
that you want to be informed in, we are as yet 

* Sec Lord Bolingbrokc's acconnt of this accident, in his letter 
ilated Sept. M, 1726, p. 101.— H, 



wholly in the dark ; but Mr Pope will follow your 
instructions. Mr Lancelot sent for the spectacles 
you left behind you, which were delivered to him. 
Mr Jervas's sheets are sent home to him, mended, 
finely washed, and neatly folded up. I intend to 
see Mr Pope to-morrow or on Sunday. I have not 
seen Mrs Howard a great while, which you know 
must be a great mortification and self-denial ; but 
in my case, it is particularly unhappy, that a man 
cannot contrive to be in two places at the same 
time ; if I could, while you are there, one of them 
should be always Dublin. But, after all, it is a silly 
thing to be with a friend by halves, so that 1 will 
give up all thoughts of bringmg this project to per- 
fection, if you will contrive that we shall meet again 
soon. I am, dear Sir, 

Your most obliged and affectionate friend 

and servant, 

J. Gay. 


London, Sept. 20, 1720. 

I HAVE been balancing, dear Sir, these three days, 
whether I should write to you first. Laying aside 
the superiority of your dignity, I thought a notifi- 
cation was due to me, as well as to two others of my 
friends : then, I considered, that this was done in the 
public news, with all the formalities of reception of 
a lord-lieutenant. I reflected on the dependency 
of Ireland; but, said I, what if my friend should 
dispute this ? Then I considered that letters were 
always introduced at first from the civilized to the 


barbarous kingdom. In short, my affection and 
the pleasure of corresponding with my dear friend, 
prevaileil ; and, since you most disdainfully, and 
barbarously confined me to two lines a month, I 
was resolved to plague you with twenty times that 
number, though 1 think it was a sort of a compli- 
ment, to be supposed capable of saying any thing 
in two lines. The Gascon asked only to speak one 
word to the French king, which the king confining 
him to, he brought a paper, and said, signez^ and 
not a word more. Your negociation with the sing- 
ing man is in the hands of my daughter Nancy, who, 
1 can assure you, will neglect nothing that concerns 
you : she has written about it. Mr Pope has been 
in hazard of his life by drowning*; coming late, two 
weeks ago, from Lord Bolingbroke's in his coach 
and six, a bridge on a little river being broke down, 
they were obliged to go through the water, which 
was not too high, but the coach was overturned in 
it J and the glass being up, which he could not 
break nor get down, he was very near drowned ; for 
the footman was stuck in the mud, and could hard- 
ly come in time to help him. He had that in com- 
mon with Horace, that it was occasioned by the 
trunk of a tree ; but it was trunco rhedU illapsa^ 
neque Faunus ictum dexfra levabat ; for he was 
wounded in the left hand, but thank God, without 
any danger ; but by the cutting of a large vessel, 
lost a great deal of blood. I have been with Mrs 
Howard, who has a most intolerable pain in one side 
of her head. 1 had a great deal of discourse with 
your friend, her royal highness. She insisted upon 
your wit, and good conversation. I told her royal 
. highness, that was not what I valued you for, but 
for being a sincere, honest man, and speaking truth 
when others were afraid to speak it. I have been 


for near three weeks together every day at the Du- 
chess of Marlborough's, with Mr Congreve, who 
has been likely to die with a fever, and the gout in 
his stomach ; but he is now better, and likely to do 
well. My brother was near being cast away going 
to France : there was a ship lost just by him. I 
write this in a dull humour, but with most sincere 
affection to an ungrateful man as you are, that minds 
every body more than me, except what concerns 
my interest. 

My dear friend, farewell. 


London, Sept. 22, 1726. 

A BOOKSELLER,* who says he is in a few days go- 
ing to Dublin, calls here, and offers to carry a letter 
to you. I cannot resist the temptation of writing to 
you, though I have nothing to say more by this 
conveyance, than I should have by that of the post; 
though I have lately clubbed with Pope to make up 
a most elegant epistle to you in prose and verse ; 
and though I wrote the other day the first paragraph 
of that Chedderf letter which is preparing for you. 

* George Faulkner. — F, 

-f A Chedder letter is a letter written by the contribntion of 
sereral friends, each fomishing a paragraph. The name is bor. 
rowed from that of a large and excellent cheese made at Chedder, 
in Somersetshire, where all the dairies contribute to make the 
cheese, which is thus made of new milk, or fresh cream ; of which 
one dairy not furnishing a sufficient quantity, the common prac- 
tice is to make cheese of milk or cream that has been set by, 


The only excuse then, which I can plead for writ- 
ing now is, that the letter will cost you nothing. 
Have you heard of the accident which befel poor 
Pope in going lately from me ? A bridge was down, 
the coach forced to go through the water, the bank 
steep, a hole on one side, a block of timber on the 
other, the night as dark as pitch. In short, he over- 
turned, the fall was broke by the water ; but the 
glasses were up, and he might have been drowned, 
if ohe of my men had not broke a glass, and pulled 
him out through the window. His right hand* 
was severely cut ; but the surgeon thinks, him in no 
danger of losing the use of his fingers : however, he 
has lately had very great pains in that arm from the 
shoulder downward, which might create a suspicion 
that some of the glass remains still in the flesh. St 
Andre says there is none. If so, these pains are 
owing to a cold he took in a fit of gallantry, which 
carried him across the water to see Mrs Howard, 
who has been extremely ill, but is much better. 
Just as I am writing, I hear that Dr Arbuthnot 
says that Mr Pope's pains are rheumatic, and have 
no relation to his wound. He suffers very much ; 
I will endeavour to see him to-morrow. Let me 
hear from you as often as you can afford to write. 
I would say something to you of myself, if I had 
any good to say ; but I am much in the same way 
in which you left me, eternally busy about trifles, 
disagreeable in themselves, but rendered support- 

till a proper quantity is procured, and then part of it at least 
is stale. — H. 

^ Pope afterwards felt some difficulty iu writing, and other- 
wise using his right hand* See a subsequent letter of the 8th 


able by their end : which is, to enable me to bury 
myseU from the world (who cannot be more tired 
of me than I am of it) in an agreeable sepulchre. 
I hope to bring this about by next spring, and shall 
be glad to see you at my funeral. Adieu. 


Whitehall, Oct. 22, 172(5, 

Dear Sir, 

Before I say one word to you, give me leave to 
say something of the other gentleman's affair. The 
letter was sent ; and the answer was, that every 
thing was finished and concluded according to or- 
ders, and that it would be publickly known to be so 
in a very few days ; so that, I think, there can be no 
occasion for his writing any more about this affair. 

The letter you wrote to Mr Pope, was not re- 
ceived till eleven or twelve days after date ; and the 
post-office, we suppose, have very vigilant officers : 
for they had taken care to make him pay for a 
doubleletter. I wish I could tell you, that the cutting, 
of the tendons of two of his fingers was a joke; but 
It is really so ; the wound is quite healed ; his hand 
is still weak, and the two fingers drop downward, as 
I told you before ; * but I hope it will be ve,ry little 
trpuMesome or detrimental to him. 

In answer to our letter of maps, pictures, and re- 

* In the letter of Sept. 16, Gay says no tendon b cat: he 
must therefore refer to a letter i|ot in this collection, if b^ mc^ 
foory did not fail him. — H. 


ceipts, you call it a tripartite letter. If you will 
examine it once again, you will find some lines of 
Mrs Howard, and some of Mr Pnllenev, which 
you have not taken the least notice of. The receipt 
of the veal is of Monsieur Devaux, Mr Pulteney's 
cook : and it has been approved of at one of our 
Twickenham entertainments. The difficuhy of the 
saucepan, I believe you will find is owing to a negli- 
gence in perusing the manuscript; for, if 1 remem- 
ber right, it is there called a stewpan. Your earth- 
en vessel, provided it is close stop])ed, I allow to 
be a good succedaneiim. As to the boiling chickens 
in a wooden bowl, I should be quhe ashamed to 
consult Mrs Howard upon your account, who thinks 
herself entirely neglected by you, in not writing to 
her, as you pronlised ; however, let her take it as 
she will, to serve a friend, I will venture to ask it 
of her. The prince and his family come to settle 
in town to-morrow. That Mr Pulteney expected 
an answer tg his letter, and would be extremely 
pleased to hear from y(ui, is very certain ; for I have 
heard him talk of it with expectation for above a 

I have of late been very much out of order with a 
slight fever, which I am not yet quite free from. It 
was occasioned by a cold, which my attendance at 
the Guildhall improved. 1 have not a friend who 
has got any thing under my administration, but the 
Duchess of Queensberry, who has had a benefit of a 
thousand pounds. Your mentioning Mr Rollinson* 
so kindly, will, I know, give him much pleasure ; 
for he always talks of you with great regard, and the 

^ A great fbieud of Lord Bolingbroke, Dr Swift, and Mr Pope. 
He married the widow of Joho Earl of Winchehea.-«-B. 


Strongest terms of friendship. He has been of lat^ 
ill of a fever, but is recovered so as to go abroad and 
take the air. 

If the engravers keep their word with me, I shall 
be able to publish my fables soon after Christmas. 
The doctor's lK>ok* is entirely printed off, and will 
be very soon published. I believe you will expect 
that I should give you some account how I have 
spent my time since you left me. I have attended 
my distressed friend at Twickenham, and been bis 
amanuensis^ which you know is no idle charge. I 
have read about half Virgil, and half Spenser'^ Fairy 
Queen. I still despise court preferments, so that I 
lose no time upon attendance on great men ; and 
still can find amusement enough without quadrille, 
which here is the universal employment of life. 

I thought you would be glad to hear from me, so 
that I determined not to stir out of my lodgings till 
I had answered your letter : and I think I shall very 
probably hear more of the matter which I mention 
in the first paragraph of this letter as soon as I go 
abroad ; for I expect it every day. We have no 
news as yet of MrStopford:t Mr Rollinson told 
me he shall know of his arrival, and will send me 
word. Lord Bolingbroke has been to make a visit 
to Sir William Wyndham. I hear he is returned, 
but I have not seen him. If I had been in abetter 
state of health, and Mrs Howard J were not come 
to town to-morrow, I would have gone to Mr Pope's 
to-day, to have dined with him there on Monday. 

♦ Arbiithiiofii Tables of ancient Coins, &c.^B. 

+ Dr James Stopford, fellow of Trinity College, Doblin, and 
advanced to the bisboprick of Cloynein February 1753.™ N. 

X Afterwards Countess of Suffolk, from whom Gay at this 
time had expectations— —11. 


You ask me how to address to Lord B- 

when you are disposed to write to him. If you 
mean Lord Burlington, he is not yet returned from 
France, but he is expected every day. If you mean 
Lord Bathurst, he is in Gloucestershire, arid makes 
but a very short stay ; so that if you direct to one 
of them in St James's Square, or to the other at 
Burlington House in Piccadilly, your letter will 
find them. I will make your compliments to Lord 
Chesterfield and Mr Pulteney ; arid, I beg you in 
return, to make mine to Mr Ford. Next week I 
shall have a new coat and new buttons, for the birth- 
day, though I do Hot know but a turn-coat might 
have been more for my advantage. 

Youfs most sincerely and affectionately. 

P. S. I hear that Lord Bolingbroke will be in town, 
at his own house in Pall Mall, next week. 

As we cannot enjoy any good things without your 
partaking of it, accept of the following receipt* for 
stewing veal : 

^^ Take a knuckle of Tcal ; 
You may buy it, or steal* 
)u a few pieces cut it : 
In a stewing pan put it. 
Salt, pepper, and mace, 
Must season this knuckle ; 
Tben f what's join'd to a place^ 
With other herbs muckle, 
That which kilPd king Will, J 
And what neyer stands still ; § 

* This is supposed to be the receipt of Mr Pultcney*s cook, 
mentioned in the former part of the letter, Tersificd. — U. 

+ V U IgO «//cirj^. (iAY. 

t Supposed sorrel. — Gay- The name of the horse which fell 
with Kin^ William, and occasioned his death. 

§ This is by Dr Bentley thought to be time or Jhtftne.^G ay. 


Some sprigs of that bed * 

Where children are brt-d, 

Which much you will mend, if 

Both spinage and endife, 

And lettuci* and beet, 

With marygold meet 

Put no water at all ; 

For it maketh things small, , 

Which, lest it should happen^ 

A cIom; cofer clap ou. 

Put this pot of Wood*s metal f 

Jn a hot boiling kettle, 

And there let it be 

(Mark the doctrine I teach) 

About, — let me see, — 

Thrice as long as you preach ;{; : 

So skimming the fat off, 

Say grace with your hat off. 

O then ! with h hat rapture 

W iU it fill Dean and chapter !" 


London) Not. 8, 172& 

I TAKE it mighty kindly, that a man of your high 
post, dear Sir, was pleased to write me so long a 
letter. I look upon the Captain Tom § of a great 
nation to be a much greater man than the governor 

I am sorry your commission about your singer 

* Panleyn Se^ Chamberlayne— Gat* 
f Of this composition see the works of the Copper-farthing 
Dean..— Gay. 

% Which we suppose to be near two hours.^—GAT. 

§ Captain Tom was a cant name for the ringleader of the 


>t been executed sooner. It is not Nanny's 
who has spoke several times to Dr Pepusch 
it, and writ three or four letters, and received 
swer, that he would write for the young fel- 
biit still, nothing is done. I will endeavour 
his name and direction, and write to him my- 

ir books shall be sent as directed : they have 
printed above a month ; but I cannot get my 
ibers' names. ♦ I will make over all my pro- 

you for the property of Gulliver's Travels ; 
1, I believe, will have as great a run as John 
an. Gulliver is a happy man, that at his age, 
rite such a merry work, f 
lade my Lord Archbishop's J compliments to 
yal highness, who returns his grace her thanks; 

same time, Mrs Howard read your letter to 
f. The princess immediately seized on your 
§ for her own use, and has ordered the young 
esses to be clad in the same. When I had the 
ir to see her, she was reading Gulliver, and was 
:mne to the passage of the hobbling prince^ 
1 she laughed at. I tell you freely, the part of 
rojectofs is the least brilliant. Lewis grum- 
a little at it, and says he wants the key to it, 
J daily refining. I suppose he will be able to 
sh like Barnevelt || in time. I gave your ser- 

9 " Tables of Ancient Coins, Weights, and Measures, ex- 

I and cxcmpiifiud in scTeral Dissertations."— >B. 

bus it appears Arbuthiiot was no stranger to the author of 


robably Archbishop King of Dublin.-— B. 

be Dean sent a present of some silk plaids from Ireland, 

9 Howard— .See his letter of the Iht September. 

his refers to " A Kry to the Lock : or a Treatise proTin; 


vice to Lady Harvey.* She is in a little sort of a 
miff about a ballad^ that was writ on her, to the tune 
of Molly Mogg, and sent to her in the name of a 
begging poet. She was bit, and wrote a letter to 
the begging poet, and desired him to change two 
double entendres ; which the authors, Mr Pulteney 
and Lord Chesterfield, changed to single entendres. 
I was against that, though I had a hand in the first. 
She is not displeased, I believe, with the ballad, but 
only with being bit. 

There has been a comical paper f about quadrille, 
describing it in the terms of a lewd debauch among 
four ladies, meeting four gallants, two of a ruddy 
and two of a swarthy complexion, talking of their 
a — es, &c. The riddle is carried on in pretty strong 
terms : it was not found out for a long time. The 
ladies imagining it to be a real thing, began to 
guess who were of the party. A great minister was 
for hanging the author. In short, it has made very 
good sport. 

Gay has had a little fever, but is pretty well re- 
covered : so is Mr Pope. We shall meet at Jjord 
Bolingbroke's on Thursday, in town, at dinner, and 
remember you. Gulliver is in every l>ody*s hands. 
Lord Scarborough, who is no inventor of stories, told 
me, that he fell in company with a master of a 
ship, who told him, that he was very well acquaint- 

beyond all Contradiction the dangerous Tendency of a late Poem, 
entitled, the Rape of the Lock, to GoTernmcnt and RelifioO| 
By Fsdras BameTcIt, Apothecary." — II. 

* The beautiful Molly Lapclle. Every reader will remember 
the exercise upon a given termination, ^hich is mentioned in the 
next sentence. 

+ Written by Mr Congreve ; and printed in Almond's Found* 
ling Hospital for Wit, No. 93; It is an exceedingly coarse piece 
of humour. 



ed ^ith Gulliver ; but that the printer had mistaken, 
that he lived in Wapping, and not in Rotherhithe. 
I lent the book to an old gentleman, who went im- 
mediately to his map to search for Lilliput. 

We expect war here. The city of London are 
all crying out for it, and they shall be undone with- 
out it, there being now a total stoppage of all trade. 
I think one of the best courses will be to rig out a 
privateer for the West Indies. Will you be con- 
cerned ? We will build her at Bermudas, and get 
Mr Dean Berkeley * to be our manager. 

I had the honour to see Lord Oxford, who asked 
kindly for you, and said he would write to you. If 
the project goes on of printing some papers, he has 
promised to give copies of some things which I be- 
lieve cannot be found elsewhere. My family, thank 
God^ are pretty well, as far as I know, and give 
their service. My brother Robert has been very ill 
of a rheumatism. Wishing you all health and hap- 
piness, and not daring to write my paper on the 
other side, I must remain, dear Sir, 

Your most faithful humble, servant, 

Jo. Arbuthnot. 


Nov. 16, 1726. 

I HAVE resolved to take time; and in spite of all 
misfortunes and demurs which sickness, lameness. 

^ He formed a design of fixing a university in the Bermudas. 


or disability of any kind can throvr in my way, to 
write yoa at (intervals) a long letter. My two least 
Angers of one band hang impediments to Uie otber,* 
like useless dependants, who only take up room, and 
never are active or assistant to oar wants : I shall 
never be much the better for them. — ^I congratulate 
you fii^t upon what you call your cousin's wonderful 
book, which is publica trita manu at present, and I 
prophesy will be hereafter the admiration of all men. 
That countenance with which it is received by some 
statesmen is delightful : I wish I could tell you how 
every single man looks upon it, to observe which 
has been my whole diversion this fortnight. 1 have 
never been a night in London, since you left me, till 
now for this very end, and indeed it has fully an- 
swered my expectations. 

I find no considerable man very ang^y at the book ; 
some indeed think it rather too bold, and t€>o general 
a satire ; but none that I hear of accuse it of parti«> 
cular reflections ( I mean no persons of consequence, 
or good judgment ; the mob of critics, you know, 
always are desirous to apply satire to those they 
envy for being above them) so that you needed not 
to have been so secret upon this head. Mottef re- 
ceived the cojiy (he tells me) he knew not from 
whence, nor from whom, dropped at his house in 
the dark, from a hackney coach ; by computing the 

^ See the preceding letters of Arbuthnot and f.iord Boling- 
broke, Mth and ^^d Sept. for the iiianoer ia which he met with 
this accideut. 

f The publisher* Pope's i^orance, though gra? elj aTerred, is 
certainly affected. The state of the post-office, where thej did 
not consider their letters as altogether inviolable, was probablj 
the cause of this indirect mode of discussing the merits of the 
work, in which Pope ia imitated bj Swift himself. 


time, I found it was after you left England, so for my 
part, I suspend my judgment. 

I am pleased with the nature and quality of your 
present to the princess. The Irish stuff you sent 
to Mrs Howard, her royal highness laid hold of, and 
has made up for her own use. Are you determined 
to be national in every thing, even in your civili- 
ties? you are 'the greatest politician in Europe at 
this rate ; but as you are a rational politician, there 
is no great fear of you, you will never succeed. 

Another thing in which you have pleased me, was 
what you say of Mr Pulteney, by which it seems 
to me that you value no man*s civility above your 
own dignity, or your own reason. Surely, without 
flattery, you are now above all parties of men, and it 
is high time to be so, after twenty or thirty years 
observation of the great world. 

'' NuUlos addictus jurare in Tcrba magistri." * 

I question not, many men would be of your inti- 
macy, that you might be of their interest: but God 
forbid an honest or witty man should be of any, but 
that of his country. They have scoundrels enough 
to write for their passions and their designs : let us 
write for truth, for honour, apd for posterity. If you 
must needs write about politics at all, (but perhaps 
it is full as wise to play the fool any other way) surely 
it ought to be so as to preserve the dignity and in- 
tegrity of j'our character with those times* to come, 
which will most impartially judge of you. 

I wish you had writ to Lord Peterborow ; no man 
is more affectionate tow^ard you. Do not fancy none 
but tories are your friends ; for at that rate I must 

* <^ To folloMC anj partj leader's cM." 


be at most but half your friend, and sincerely I am 
wholly so. Adieu, write often, and come soon, for 
many wish you well, and all would be glad of your 


Not. 17M.» 

I DID not expect that the sight of my ring would 
produce the effect it has. I was in such a hurry 
to show your plaid to the princess, that I could 
not stay to put it into the shape you desired. It 
pleased extremely, and I have orders to fit it up ac- 
cording to the first design ; but as this is not proper 
for the public, you are desired to send over, for 
the same princess's use, the height of the Brobding- 
nag dwarf multiplied by 2 J. The young princesses 
must be taken care of; theirs must be in three 
shares : for a short method, you may draw a line of 
20 ffeet, and upon that, by two circles, form an equi- 
lateral triangle; then measuring each side, you 
will find the proper quantity and proper division. 
If you want a more particular or better rule, I refer 
you to the academy of Lagado. t I ^ini of opinion 
many in this kingdom will soon appear in your 
plaid. To this end it will be highly necessary, that 
care be taken of disposing of the purple, the yellow, 
and' the white silks; and though the gowns are for 
princesses, the officers are very vigilant; so take 

♦ Endorsed, "Nor. 1726. Answered 17th."— N. 
+ Sec GulKrer's Travels.— H. 




Clire they are not seized. Do not forget to be obser- 
vant how you dispose the' colours. I shall take all 
particular precautions to have the money ready, and 
to return it the way you judge safest. 1 think it 
would be worth your reflecting in what manner the 
checker might be best managed. 

The princess will take care, that you shall have 
pumps sufficient to serve you till you return to 
England; but thinks you cannot, in common de- 
cency, appear in heels, * and therefore advises your 
keeping close till they arrive. Here are several 
Lilliputian mathematicians, so that the length of your 
head, or of your foot, is a sufficient measure. Send 
it by the first opportunity. Do not forget our good 
friends the 500 weavers. You may omit the gold 
thread. Many disputes have arisen here, whether 
the big-endians, and lesser-endians, ever differed in 
opinion about the breaking of eggs, when they were 
to be either buttered or poached ? or whether this 
part of cookery was ever known in Lilliput ? 

I cannot conclude without telling you, that our 
island is in great Joy ; one of our yahoos having 
been delivered of a creature, half ram and half yahoo; 
and another has brought forth four perfect black 
rabbits, f May we not hope, and with sdme pro- 
bability expect, that in time our female yahoos will 
produce a race of Houyhnhmns! I am. Sir, your 
most humble servant, Sieve Yahoo. J 

* lo Gullirer's TravelS) high and low heels are made the dis- 
tinction of political parties.— H. Whig and 'i'ory were alluded 
to Id this familiar metaphor. 

f An impostor balled Mary Tofts put such a trick upon the 
public at this time, and met with credit even among medical 

X Siere is a name given by Swift, in Gullirer's Tra?els^ to a 
court lady. - 




Not. 17y 172«. 

When I received your letter I thought it the 
most unaccountable que I ever saw in my life, and 
was not able to comprehend three words of it toge* 
ther. The perverseness of your lines astonished me, 
which tended downward to the right in one page, 
and upward in the two others. This I thought im* 
possible to be done by any one who did not squint 
with both eyes; an infirmity I never observed in you. 
However, one thing I was pleased with,' that after 
you had writ down, you repented, and writ ine up 
again. But 1 continued four days at a loss for your 
meaning, till a bookseller sent me the Travels of one 
Captain Gulliver, who proved a very good explainer,* 
although, at the same time, I thought it hard to be 
forced to read a book of seven hundred pages, in 
order to understand a letter of fifty lines; especially 
as those of our faculty are already but toa much pes- 
tered with commentators. The stuffs you r^uire 
are making, because the weaver piques himself upon 
having them in perfection. But he has read Gul- 
liver's book, and has no conception what you mean 
by returning money ; for he has become a proselyte 
of the Houyhnhnms, whose great principle, if I 
rightly remember, is benevolence ; and as to myself, 
I am so highly offended with such a base proposal. 

* * In wkich it is said tbat the ^iliputlins, like the ladies of 
England, write from one corner of the paper to the other* 
Vol. XII. p. 76. 




that I am determined to complain of you to her royal 
highness, that you are a mercenary yahoo, fond of 
shining pebbles. What have I to do with you or 
your court, further than to shew the esteem I have 
for your person, because you happen to deserve it ; 
and my: gratitude to her royal highness, who was 
pleased a little to distinguish me ; which, by the way, 
is the greatest compliment I ever paid, and may 
probably be the last ; for I« am not such a prostitute 
flatterer as Gulliver, whose chief study is to exte- 
nuate the vices, and. magnify the virtues, of m9,u- 
kind, and perpetually dins our ears^with the praises 
ofliis country in the midst of corruption, and for 
that reason alone . has found so many readers, and 
probably will - have a pension, which; I suppose, 
was his chief design in writing. As for his compli- 
ments to the ladies, I can easily forgive him, as^a 
. natural effect of the devotion which our sex ought 
always to pay to yours. . You need not b^ in pain 
about the omc^rs searching or seizing the plaids, for 
the silk has already paid di\ty in England, and there 
is no law. against exporting silk manufacture from 
hence. I am sure the princess and you have got the " 
length, of my foot,, and Sir Robert Walpole says he 
has the length of my head, so that I need not give 
you thie trouble of sending you either. I shall only 
tell you in general, that 1 never had a long head, and, 
for that reason few people have thought it worth 
while to get th^ length of my foot. I cannot answer 
%your queries about eggs buttered or poached ; but I 
possess one talent which admirably qualifies me for 
roasting' them ; for a^the world, with respect to 
eggs, is divided into pelters and roasters, it is my 
unhappiness to be one qf the latter, and consequently, 
to be persecuted by the former. I have been five 
days turning over old books to discover the meaning 


of those monstrous births you mention. That of the 
four black rabbits seems to threaten some dark court 
intrigue, and perhaps some change in the admi- 
nistration f for the rabbit is an undermining animal, 
that loves to walk in the dark. The blackness de- 
notes the bishops, whereof some of the last you 
have made are persons of such dangerous parts 
and profound abilities : But rabbits being clothed in 
furs, may perhaps glance at the judges. However, 
the ram, by which is meant the ministry, butting 
with his two horns, one against the church, and the 
other against the law, shall obtsun the victory. And 
whereas the birth was a conjunction of ram and-^a- 
hoo, this is easily explained by the story of ChircNS, 
governor, or which is the same thing,- chief mi- 
nir^ter to Achilles, who was half man and half brute; 
which, as Machiavel observes, all good governors 
of princes ought to be. But I am at the end of my 
line, and my lines. This is without a cover, to save 
money, and plain paper, because the gilt is so thin 
it will discover secrets between us. In a little room 
for words, I assure yoii of my being, with truest 
respect. Madam, 

Your most obedient humble servant, 

Jon, Swift. 


Dublin, Not. 17, 1726. 

I AM just come from answering a letter of Mrs 
Howard's, writ in such mystical terms, that I should 
never have found out the meaning, if a book had 
not been sent me called Gulliver's Travels, of which 




you say so much in yours. I read the book over« 
and in the second volume observed several passages 
which appear to be patched and altered,* and the 
style of a different sort, unless I am mistaken. Dr 
Arbuthnot likes the projectors^ least; others, you 
tell me, the flying island ; some think it wrong to 
be so hard upon whole bodies or corporations, yet 
the general opinion is, that reflections on particular 
persons are most to be blamed: so that in these 
cases, I think the best method is to let censure and 
opinion take their course. A bishop here said, that 
book was full of improbable lies, and for his part^ 
he hardly believed a word of it; and so much for 

Going to England is a very good thing, if it were 
not attended with an ugly circumstance of returning 
to Ireland. It is a shame you do not persuade your 
ministers to keep me on that side, if it were but by 
a court expedient of keeping me in prison for a plot- 
ter; but at the same time I must tell you, that such 
journeys very much shorten my life, for a month 
here is longer than six at Twickenham. 

How comes friend Gay to be so tedious ? another 
man can publish fifty thousand lies sooner than he 
can publish fifty fables. 

I ^m just going to perform a very good office ; it is 
to assist with th^ archbishop in degrading a parson 
who couples all our beggars, by which I shall make 
one happy man : and decide the great question of an 

* $ee tlie iotroductory letter from GulliTcr to hU cousin Simfi. 

f Because he uoderstood it to be intended as a satire on the 
Rojai Society,— W A RBURTON. Probably, also, because he was 
sensible of the injustice of the satire upon mathematical and phy- 
sical science. 


indelible character in favour of the principles in 
£Bi^ion ; this I hope you will represent to tlie mi- * 
nistry in my favour as a point of merit : so farewell 
till I return. 

I am come back, and have deprived the parson, 
who by a law here is to he hanged the next couple 
he marries : he declared to us that he resolved to be 
hanged, only desired that when he was to go to the 
gallows, the archbishop would take olBT his excom- 
munication. Is not he a good catholic ? and yet • 
he is but a Scotchman. This is the only Irish event 
• I ever troubled you with, and I think it deserves 
notice. Let me add, that if 1 were Gullivef*s friend, 
I wQuld desire all my acquaintance to give out that 
his copy was basely mangled and abused, and added 
to, and blotted out by the printer ; for so to me ^it 
seems, in the second volume particularly. 



Not. 17, 1726. 

About ten da^s ago a book was published here 
of the travels of one Gulliver, which has heext the 
conversation of the whole town ever since: the 
whole impression sold in a week : and nothing is 
more diverting than to hear the different opinions 
people give of it, though all agree in liking it ex- 
tremely. It is generally said that you are the au- 
thor; but I am told, the bookseller declares, he 
knows not from what hand it came. From the 
highest to the lowest it is universally read, from 
the cabinet-council to the nursery. The politicians 
to a man agree, that it is free from particular re- 



ections, but that the satire on general societies of 
len is too severe. Not but we now and then meet 
rith people of greater perspicuity, who are in search 
)r particular applications in every leaf; and it is 
ighly probable we shall have keys published to 
ive light into Gulliver's design. Lord — ^ is the 
erson who least approves it, blami^ig it as a design 
r evil consequence to depreciate human nature, at 
'hich it cannot be wondered that he takes most 
ffence, being himself the most accomplished of his 
3ecies, at)d so losing more than any other of that 
raise which is due both to the dignity and virtue of 
man. * Your friend, my Lord Harcourt, com- 
lends it very much, though he thinks in some 
faces the matter too far carried. The Duchess 
)owager of Marlborough is in raptures at it; she says 
he can dream of nothing else since she read it: she 
eclaresthat she has now found out, that her whole 
[fe has been lost in caressing the worst part of 
lankinc), and treating the best' as her foes: find 
hat if she knew Gulliver, though he had been the 
7orst enemy fehe ever haiji, she should give up her 
resent acquaintance for his friendship, f You may 
ee by this, that you are not much injured by being 
upposed the author df this piece. If you are, you 
ave disobliged us, and two or fhree of your best 
riends, in not giving us the least hint of it while 
ou wer^ with us ; and iA particular Dr Arbuthnot, 

* It is no wonder a man of real merit should condemn a satire 
n his species ; as it injures yirtue, and violates truth : and aa 
ttle^ that a corrupt and worthless man should approve such a sa. 
re« because it justifies his principles^ and tends to eicuse his 
racfice*— Warbobton. 

f See extracts from hqr diary to the same purpose, Vol. Ill* 
. 145, noie ; and Vol. XII. p. 12^ note. 


who says it is ten thousand pities he had not known 
it, he could have added such abundance of things 
upon every bubject. Among lady critics, some have 
found out that Mr Gulliver had a particular malice 
to maids of honour. Those of them who frequent 
the church, say, his design is impious, and that it 
is depreciating the works of the Creator. Notwith- 
standing, I am told the princess has read it with 
great pleasure. As to other critics, they think the 
flying island is the least entertaining ; and so great 
an opinion the town have of the impossibility of 
Gulliver's writing at all below himself, it is agreed 
that part was not writ by the same hand, though 
this has its defenders too. It has passed lords and* 
commons, nemine contradicente ; and the whole 
town, men, women, and children are quite full of 

Perhaps I may all this time b? talking to you of 
a book you have never seen, and which has not yet 
reached Ireland; if it has not, I believe what we 
have said will be sufficient to recommend it to 
your reading, and that you will order me to send it 
to you. 

But it will be much better to come over yourself, 
and read it here, where you will have the pleasure 
of variety of conunentators, to explain the difficult 
passages to you. 

We all rejoice that you have fixed the precise time 
of your coming to be cum hirundine primd; which 
we modern naturalists pronounce, ought to be 
reckoned, contrary to Pliny, in this northern lati- 
tude of fifty, two degrees, from the end of February, 
Styl. Greg, at furthest. But to us your friends, the 
coming of such a black swallow as you, will make 
a summer in the worst of seasons. We are no less 
glad at your mention of Twickenham and Dawley : 


and in town you know you have a lodging at 

The princess is clothed in Irish silk; pray give 
our service to the weavers. We are strangely sur- 
prised to hear that the bells in Ireland ring without 
your money. I hope you do not write the thing 
that is not. We are afraid that B — hath been guilty 
of that crime, that you (like a houyhnhnm) have 
treated him as a yahoo, * and discarded him your 
service. I fear you do not understand these modish 
terms, which every creature now understands but 

You tell us your wine is bad, and that the clergy 
do not frequent your house, which we look upon to 
be tautology. The best advice we can give you is, 
to make them a present of your wine, and come 
away to better. 

1 ou fancy we enyy you, but you are mistaken ; 
we envy those you are with, for we cannot envy the 
man we love. Adieu. 


Nov. 20, 1726, 


I WAS endeavouring to give an answer to yours in 

a new dialect, which most of us are very fond of. 

I depended much upon a lady, who had a good ear, 

and a pliant tongue, in hopes she might have taught 

* By this circuiDBtance it is clear that Gay knew Swift to be 
the author of Gulliver ; though the whole letter pleasantly goes 
OD the idea of Swift's being a stranger to the wor)^«— Dr W arton. 


itie to draw sounds out of consonants. But she, being 
a professed friend to the Itahan speech and vowels, 
would give me no assistance, and so I am forced to 
write to you in the yahoo language. 

The new one in fashion is much studied, and great 
pains taken about the pronunciation. Every body 
* (since a new turn) approves of it ; but the women 
seem most satisfied, who declare for few words and 
horse performance. It suffices to let you know, that 
there is a neighing duetto appointed for the next 

Strange distempers rage in the nation, which your 
friend * the doctor takes no care of. In some, the 
imagination is struck with the apprehension of swell- 
ing to a giant, or dwindling to a pigmy. Others 
expect an oration equal to any of Cicero's from an 
eloquent bard, and some take the braying of an ass 
for the emperor's speech in favour of the Vienna 
alliance. The knowledge of the ancient world is of 
no use; men have lost their titles; continents and 
islands have got new names just upon the appear- 
ance of a certain book, f Women bring forth rab- 
bits; J and every man, whose wife has conceived, 
expects an heir with four legs. It was concluded, 
not long ago, that such confusion could be only 
brought about by the black art, and by the spells of 
a notorious scribbling magician, || who was generally 
suspected, and was to be recommended to the.niercy 
of the inquisition^ Indictn^ents were upon the an- 
vil, a charge of sorcery preparing, and Merlin's 

* Probably Arbuthnot— H, 
f Gulli?er'8 Travels.— H. 

:{: Mary Tofts pretended to do this ; but being brought up to 
town, and well watched, the imposture was detected.— U. 
II The Deai].-II. 



friends were afraid, that the exasperated pettifog- 

fers would persuade the jury to bring in hilla vera. 
or they pretended to bring in certain proofs of his 
appearance in several shapes: at one time a drapier ; * 
at another a Wapping surgeon ; J sometimes a nar- 
dack, sometimes a reverend divine. Nay more, 
that he could raise the dead ; that he had brought 
philosophers, heroes, and poets, in the same caravan 
from the other world ; and, after a few questions, had 
sent them all to play at quadrille in a flying isliand 
of t^is own. 
' This was the scene not many days ago, and 
burning was too good for the wizard. But what 
mutations among the Lilliputians ! The greatest 
lady in the nation resolves to send a pair of shoes 
without heels to Captain. Gulliver : she takes vi et 
armis the plaid from the lady it was sent to, which 
is soon to appear upon her royal person ; and now 
who but Captain GuUivfer? The captain indeed 
has nothing more to do but to chalk his pumps, 
learn to dance upon the rope, and I may yet live 
to see him a bishop. Verily, verily, I believe he 
never was in such imminent danger of preferment. 


Your affectionate tar. 

• t 


•. 1 

* In thcDmpier's Letters against Wood's halfpenoe.— H. 
t Lwael Galliyer.*H. 



Bee. 5, 172({. 

I BELIEVE the hurt in your hand affects me more 


than it does yourself, and with reason, because I 
may probably be a greater loser by it. What have 
accidents to do with those who are neither Jockie^ 
nor fox-hunters, nor bullies, nor drunkards? And 
yet a rascally groom shall gallop a foundered horse 
ten miles upop a causeway, and get home safe. 

I am very much pleased that you approve what 
was sent, because I remember to have heard a great 
man say, that nothing required more judgment than 
making a present; * which when it is done to those 
of high rank, ought to be something that is not 
readily got for money. You oblige me, and at the 
same time do me justice, in what you observe as to 
Mr Pulteney. f Besides it is too late in life for me 
to act otherwise, and therefore I follow a very easy 
road to virtue, and purchase it cheap. If you will 
give me leave to join us, is not your life and mine a 
state of power, and dependance a state of slavery ? 
We care not three pence whether a prince or minister 
will see us or not: we are not afraid of having ill 
offices done us, nor are at the trouble of guarding 
our words for fear of giving offence. I do agree that 
riches are liberty, but then we are to put into the 

* The present to the Princess of Wales of Irish stuff. 

f In his letter of the 16th NoYember, Pope had gently and 
kindly remonstrated against the Dean's inTol?ing himself in n 
party warfare by too close an alliance with Pulteney. 


Wlance how long our apprenticeship is to last in ac* 
quiring them. 

Since you have received the verses * J most ear- ^ , * 

nestly entiieat you to burn those which you do not 
approve; an3 in those few where you may not dis- 
like some parts, blot out the rest, and sometimes 
(though it be against the laziness of your nature) be * t 

so kind as to make a few corrections, if the matter 
will bear them. I have some few of those things 
I call thoughts moral and diverting ; if you please I 
win send the best I can pick from them, to add to 
tide new voltime. I have reason to choose the 
method you mention of mixing the several verses, 
and I hope thereby among the bad critics to be en- 
titled to more merit than is my due. 
' This moment I am so happy as to have a letter 
from my Lord Peterborow, for which I entreat you 
will present him with my humble respects and 
tiianks, though he all-to-be-Gullivers me by very 
strong insinuations. Though you despise riddles, 
I am strongly tempted to send a parcel to be printed 
by themselves, and make a nine-penny job for the 
bookseller. There are some of my own, wherein 
I exceed Dnankind, mira ptemaia ! the most solemn 
that were ever seen ; and some writ by others, ad- 
mirable indeed, but far inferior to mine ; but I will • • 
not praise myself. You approve that writer who 
» laughs and makes others lau^h \ but why should I 
.¥who hate the world, or you who do not love it, make 
it so happy ? therefore I resolve from henceforth to 


* A just character of Swift's poetry, as well as his prose, is, that 
it ^^ consists of proper words in proper places." Johnson said 
OBoe to me, speaking of the simplicity of Swift's style^ ^' The 
rogue neTcr hazards a figure."^*Dr Wabtom. 

»• ^ 


' , .. handle only serious subiects, nisi quid tu, docte Tre* 
batiy dissentis. Yours, &c. 

Jon. Swift. 

f 4 


•• : 




\ ^ '\ * Madam, 

.My correspondents haye informed me, that your 

^ • • * ladyship has done me the honour to answer several 

r * objections that igpiorance, malice, and party have 

; mlide to my Travels, and been so charitable as to 

\ justify the fidelity and veracity of the author. This 

. ' zeal you have shown for truth calls for my partica- 

lar thanks, and at the same time encourages |ne to 

^ ' l>^g ycu would continue your goodness to me, by 

reconciling me to the maids of honour, whom, they 

. * * ■ say, I have most grievously oflfended. I am so stupid 

• « « as not to find out how I have disobliged them. Is 

thei*e any harm in a young lady's reading of n>* 

jnances ? Or did I make use of an improper engine 

* . • ^ to extinguish a fire that was kindled by a maid of 

honour ? And I will venture to affirm, that if* ever 
the young ladies of your court should meet with a 
man of as little consequence in this country as I was 
in Brobdingnag, they would nise him with as much 
contempt; but I submit myself and ihy cause to 
your better judgment, and beg leave to lay the crown ^ 
of Lilliput at' your feet, as a sidall acknowledge 
jnent of your ravour to my book and person! I 

* ' * This letter mast haTe been written about tin end of *tte 

year 1726. It is in the charactect>f GnHiTer. ■ - '} 

6 ' ' * 'il ' 




found it in the corner of my waistcoat pocket, into 
which I thru£t mqst of the valuable furniture of the 
royal apartment when the palace was on fire, and 
by mistake brought it with me into England; for I 
very honestly restored to their majesties all their 
goods that I knew were in my possession. May all 
courtiers imitate me in that, and my being. Ma- 
dam, &c. 

JoN. SwiPT. 


De Dawley, ce Pr«nicr Ferricr, 1720-7. 

On m*a dit, Monsieur, que vous vous plaignez de 
n'avoir poiiit recA de mes leltres. Vous avez tort : 
je vous traite comme les divinit^s, qui tiennent conte 
aox hommes de leurs intentions. II y a dix ans, que 
j*ai celle de vous 6crire ; avant que d avoir Thonneur 
de vous connoitre, Tid^e que je me faisois de votre 
gravity, me retenoit : depuis que j*ai eu celui de voir 
voire rfevirence, je ne me suis pas trouvfee assez 
d*imagination pour T hoarder. Un certain M. de 
GulUyer avoit un peu remis en mouvement cette 
pauvre imagination ci ^teint par I'air de Lonclres, et 
par des conversations dont je n'entend que le bruit. 


A French lady of great fortune, learning, and politeness, 
■d wife to ,Lonl Viscount Boliogbroke, who married her 

?liiki in exile. She had been secopd wife, of the Mai'qais de 
illette) chef d'escadre, nephew or cousin to Madame de Main- 
tenon. See Voltaire, Steele de Louis XIV. tom. II. ' She died 
March 18^ 1749, Lord liolingbrokfe survived her ; dying De- 
ceaber 15, 1751, aged 78.-11. 

« • 



Je voulus me saisir de ce moment pour vous icrire^ 
mais je tombai malade, et je I'ai toajours 6te depuis 
trois mois. Je profile done, monsieur, du premier 
retour de ma sante pour vous remercier de vos re- 
proches, dont je suis tr6s flattie, et pour vous dire 
un mot de mon ami M. Gulliver. J*apprends avec 
une grande satisfaction, qu'i) vient d'etre traduit en 
Francois, et comme mon sejour en Angleterre a beau- 
coup redouble mon amitie pour mon pays et pour 
mes compatriotes, je suis ravi qu*ils puissent partici- 
per au plaisir que m'a fait ce bon monsieur, et pro- 
filer de ses d^couvertes. Je ne desesp^re pas mSme 
que 12 vaisseaux que la France vient d'armer ne 
* puissentetre destines k une embassade chezM essieurs 

les Houyhnhnms. En ce cas je vous proposerai, que 
nous fassions ce voyage. En attendant je sai bon gr^ 
k un ouvrier de votre nation, qui pour instruire les 
dames (lesquelles comme vous savez, monsieur, font 
ici un grand usage de leurs eventails) en a fait faire, 
ou toutes les aventures de notre v^ridique voyageur 
sont d^peintes. Vous jugez bien quelle part 11 va 
avoir dans leur conversation. Cela fera k la verity 
beaucoup de tort k la pluie et au beautems, qiii en 
^ remplissoient une partie, et en mon particulier je sera 

priv^e des very cold et very warm, qui sont les seuls 
mots que j'entends. Je conte de vous envoyer de 
<^ > ces Eventails par un de vos amis. Vous vous en fe- 

rez un merite avec les dames d'Irlande, si tant esl 
que vous en ayez besoin ; ce que je pe crois pas, du 
moins si elles pensent comme les Francoises. Le 
Seigneur de Dawley, Mr Pope, et moi sommes ici 
occup6s a boire, manger, dormir, ou pe rien^air^ 
^ priant Dieu qu'ainsi soit de vous. Revenez ce prin- 

tems nous revoir, monsieur; j'attend votre retour 
avec impatience pour tu^r le boeuf le plus pesani, 
et le cochon le plus gras, qui soit dans ma ferme: 


***** l\m et I'aatre serogjt servis en emier sur la table de 
i^tre rhvktence^ craiate que men cuisinier n'use 
ancun d^gaisemetit. Voas brillerez parmi nous' 
du moins aulfiiitque parmi vos chanoiues, nous 
He serous pas moins iempress6s k vous plaire. Je 
le disputeirai ktoxi^t autre^.^tant plus que personne 
da monde votre tr^s hum^^le e^ ir^ obeissante ser- 

. *^ 




m PoPB m'a filit, grand plaisir, monsieur, de 
m*dssuirer ^ne totre sant6 est bonne ; et deme montrer 
dans une de vos lettres des marques de Thonneur de 
totre fouvenir. Je troiive que vous prenez fort mat 
totre terns d*habiter votre Dublin pendant quelAious 
habltons notre Qawlejr. Nous aurions eu grand soin 
de vous cet hiver, et noils aurions ha'j ensemble le 
« Ipeniife humain. autant qu*il voui auroit p\h^ car je 
trdun^ Wii n embellit point au croitre. On a fait 
^teult<4>ieces de th^ktre en France, tiroes soi-disant 
de|idees de Gulliver, Je ne vous les envoye pointy 
^ar^ies sont detestable i mais celft prouve au moins, 
<|ne de bdn voyageur a si bien r^ussi chez nous, qu'on 
H crft, qu'en mertant seulement son nom aux, plus 
'inauvaises pieceft|%n les rendroit recommendilbles ai^ 
publique. Notr^ermier vous embrasse : il se plaint 
^ boude de ce que vous £tes parti sans qu'il ait pu. 
ViqA^ire adieu; et de ce quMl a vu un^de vos lettres, 
jfh vdis ncf dites pas un mot pour luic mais J e vous 

' '» 

A « Indoned, «< Lady BoUngbroke.*'— N. 
' VOL. XVII. * I 


■4. ; 

^ ^ 


crois comme lel^cocfkeftes, qui' se %nt & lears charmer 
ne s*embarassent pas de leurs tor&. En effet Us vous 
seront pardonnes k la premiere lettre,%t encore plus 
ais^ment k la premiere esperance de vous r^voir. 
Adieu, monsieur, poVtez vous bien/et nous serons 
content^^ Je ne m^viserai pas de vous maader des 
nouvelles de ce pays ci : Je suis 4trang^e de plus 
eu plus, et je ne seroii tentft de me faire naturaliser^ 
^He dans ceux ou je pourrois vivre avec vou^ 


• • ♦ 


r ^ Feb. 1,1?M.7. ^ 

Madam, * ^ 

' I AM so very nice, and my workmen so fi^arfo]^ 
thayfcer^s yet but one piece finished of the tn^ 
whi^ ybucommanded me to send to her royal 
highness* The other was done : but th^undertikery 
confessing it was not to the utmost pe^fec^on, has 
obtained my leave for a second attempft ; in whic% he * 
\ promises, to do wonders, and iells me it wilt h i #fe a4jr 

^ in another fortnight; although, perhaps, the h&nour 
may be quite ojpfbgth with i^e princess and you; Tor 
* such were courts when I knew them. 1 4^ire you 
will order her royal highness to go to Richmond as. 
soon as she can this summer, becj^se #he will have 
%he plesisure of my neighbourhood^ for I hope to be 
in London by the middle of March, and I do not k>ve 
yoM much whpn you are there : and I expect to tAd 
you aiA altered by flattery or ill company.' I iip^kid 
to tell f ou now^ that I honour you with my esXleem/^ 
* because, when the princess ^iows a crowned h^tedT 

you shall have no more such compliments; smd il^s 
a hundred to one whether you will d#serm th^m. 





f « 




1 do not apM>ve of your advice to bring over pumps 
for myself, duJ will rather provicd^another ai^e for 
his royal highif^s,^ against thei^hall be occasion,4i, 
I will tell you' an odd accident that happen^ this ^ 
night:' — While L^a& caressing cme of my Houyhn- 
hnmsL he bit myiittle finger sof C^ruelly, tl^ I Hn 
hardi^able to wi^; and I irtipute the cause tgson^ 
forekiy wledge in hinf, that I ya^ going to write to 
a Sieve ^hoo, fiukso you are pleased tcmeall your* ^ 
^g self. Pray fcl|w Robert Walpole, that |f he does ■'* 

lel^tter next summer than he did fast, I 




¥ ^ 


"^will study i^enge, . and it shM he vengeance fccU^. 
sidsiiqtAe; \ hope you will get your house ancrWtne 
ready, to which Mr ^ay and I ar,e to have free ac-. 
cess w)ien you>re ktr eourt ; for, as to Mp Pope, heH. 
is not worth/0nsidering on such odcasiofis. I am 
1|prry I have il|| complaints lo make of her royal high* 
liess; Xh^ioti^ I think, I may let gfkm tell Mir, 
'* That eWry grain of virtue find good s^ose, in one 
of her ra^l^ considering the«bad edickti^n among 
flattereilk avl adorera^is woHfti a do^ra Axx any in,- 
feribr p^ron." Now, if v\^hat the ^rld says be • 
tru4»^tksa she^excelf all other ladies at least a 
dozen times; then, multiply one dozen by the 
oAer," you will find thetnumber to be one^hunc^ed 
ah4 forty-four. If any dn| can say a ci viler thing, 
let litiiii; -fw I think it too much*for me. ^ ^ 

I hiive* some, title to be angry with*you, for not 
commanding those who wcjiie4|p me to mention^ouf 
remembrance. Can there beltny thing nt|M*e*4Kuse, 
{Han to make me the first advances, and tl!&i b^n^ 
. 42^cQltant ? It is very hard that I must cros»4he sea, 

^'^iI|kI ride |wo hiinch*ed miles, to jpep^acl^oftn |>ftr- 








• See GJ^HWer's Travels, Vol. XIL p. 64, and note. 








son ; when, at the same time, I fed n»9^, 
mdbt eqtire respeq|t 


Madam, &^ 

JoK. Swift. 

J* ,». 





^ ^^:, ' Fe«e,l7, 17M.7. || 

Trts'^opportunity pf writing to you It cianncff ne* 

gleet, though [ shall have less to say to you thstal 

shoulS have bv abdther conveiupce. Mr Stoptbrd 

y JtMfing fiilly inu>nned of al) tha^pisses in this boiste- 

^ roiis climate of ours, and darrying ^^li^ him a cargo ^ 

df olir weekly productions, yop will ^pRu anger on!' 

<>ne side an^rage on the oth^; satift on one side 

' add defaqty^nln on the other* Ah! oii^fsiXfriUan?* 

Yotl suflfe/mu^ where you.^e, as y6u t^mfe in an 

4 old letter of ymSf^ whiqh I have before nief ^ul you 

' suffer with tKenopes of p^singSext mmiia^ri>^ ' 

*13awley and T|irickenham ; and these hop^s,, you 

' flatter us enough to intimate, support ypur spirits. 

Remember this solemli renewal of your engagements. 

Reftd(nber, that though yoii aif^ a dean,*you are not 

great enough to despise me reproach ofbreakinj^ ybur 

- word. Your deafness must not be a hackner in|6use 

to youigs it v^as^ to Oxford. What nlatter if you are 

dea|^ what matter if|^6« cannot hear what»we say ? 

YoirardSl^ot dumb, and v^ shall hear you, and that 

is dtaoug^. My wife writes to you herself, and sends 

•* * 

* Lord Bolingbroke «id#^iilteiie}r liad now organized tlieir 
ittack upon the ministisr, by mains pf the Craftsiyan, and wem 
denbtlew 8iiflcieatJjr deBfrons to secoie Swift as an aiuuliarjr. 

% 5 



* t. 

"♦ ^ 



r coirai 


jroJKome fans Jus^arnvafrfTom lilliput, which you 
will dispose of to* thp pun^t Stella,* whoever sae 
he. Adtpu, dear friend,' I'caoi^, in conscience, 
Kep you any lon^r from enjoying Mr'StopiWd's 
conversation, t i am bury log my self ^.^Mre, that' I 
may mt a day or two for Davley, whereThoJl^ftUat 
you wflffipd gfe estab^shj^at your return. There 
I propflis0^ {ibish my da^ in eaae^Hth^itl^ot'h ; 
aud i>elieve X skall seldom visit I»ndon, n^ess it be 
f'\a divert mysetf now and then wira%nnoying. fools 
and Ittaft'es'fQ^a month or two. Once more adieus 
no ia|o l«Mes |^ou better than your faithful B ——. 

9 , & --=, ^"^ 

* /.-'FROM MR mv. ^ ' 

r-k '^^ ■' • - ■«■ ■ 

^ DsAR Sir, ^ ., V, _ ^'■ 

iJF I BELIEVE it is now my turn to write to you,- * 
I J'^'ough Mr Pt>P^ ^iis taken all I have to say, and put "^ *t 

it into a longlelter, which is sent too by Mr Stop- ■ 
ford: but IiowevM, I could not omit this occasion of *' 
thaoking you for nis-acquaintance. I do not Aow 



wiiether I ought to tliknk yoi^ or not, consideritig I 
have lost him so soon, though iie has giv^ me some 
hopes of se^g him again in the summer. He will 
^.jive you an account of our negotiations togett^erj * 

* .- -^-=^: ' ■ 

' >■ \ MIN Johmoq . died the month preceding tbfl dste^of AU 
mmt. Bn^ Hnnlderiog the teadernen'^S jvblcfa Oe Dwn' 

Ml know^talregret ber Iom, thiH»& BtFuMtdt^raHfoD. K. 

*^ It woDtd M«m that 1Mb ud the two followiBg lettera f>mi 
<^ ud Po)ib. went by lai^r or H^topfofd, retDrning to 
Ifluvdjirtu ue coacloHOD of \a tnvelt. ^ . 





and I may now glory in 4^y sqcq^s, since I ttvld 
- contribute to his. WejJiiied^og^ther to-day at the 
doctor's, who, with me/ was in high delight upft>n an 
inrafmatien Mr Stopford gave us, that we are likely 
to^e youvjQpn. Mv ^bles are printed^' but I can- 
noljiget m^^ plates nnishedf, which hindy^ the pu- 
blication. I expect noli^ng^ and an^ liW^ get no- 
thing:^ It is^needless fc write, for Kflr Stopford 
can acquaint you of my affairs more^Hy than I can 
in a letter. Mrs Howard desires me tp maj^e her 
compliments ; she has been in an iU^stlte asHo her 
h^th all this winter, bi^^I hope is soia6^||^j|etter. 
I t^e been >yery niufh ou| of order myself^H^ the 
most part of the winter: f^on-my being let blood 
last woel^ my ei^iigh and my headaoh. are m^^ch 
hetXei^ . Mrs BlpuA| always asks after ^qp. 1 re- 
fused supfmg at BiOTtngton-house to-night, in regard 
to my healll^ and this Rising I walked \mo hours 
f|^ in the park: Sowrie Wd me thin^pi^ning, mat Pope 
hid a cold, auri that'Mnpj'ope ifpretty w^lU The 
contemnt of t^CLWorld ^fows upon v^ and I now 
begin to oe richCT and richer; for rtin^ could, every^ 
^ ^ ^ looming I awakfij^ he C^teijt yiMi les^ thai^ 1 aimed 
^ ' a4;'t^e day before. I fancy,* in |||ae, \ shalT bring 
,:\ in}Wlf iQto thaC state whi<^ no man ever knew 
before itipe/:i^^ thinking I have enoughul really am 
afraid tc^m^content MQXh so littl^fV lest my good 
friends shouia Censure me for indol^ce, and the' 
want of laudaitte ambition, so th|^ it will be abso^ 
lutely necessary for me to ifUproll^ my fortune to ^ 
content them. Hi^w solicitous is mankind to please 
others ! Eray give n^ sincere service to &Ar Ford. 
J>ear Sir, yi(>urs most affectionately,^ ' 

*• « 

-: ^ 

9. Qa; 




^ i 




'^ March ft, ITVtW* 

Mb Stofpord wilt be the bearer of this letter, for 
whose acquaintance f'ain, among many other fa- 
vours, obliged to you^atilnd I think the acquaintance 
of set raluabte, ingenious, and unaffected a man, to 
be none of the least obligations. 

Our Miscellany is now quite printed, I am pro- 
digiously jjleased with this joint volume, in which 
methinks we look like friends, side by side, serious 
and merry by turns, conversing interchangeably, 
and walking down hand in band to posterity ; not 
in th^stifF forms of teamed authors, nattering each 
other, -and setting the rest of mankind at nought; 
but in a free, unimportant, natural, easy manner; 
diverting others, just as we diverted ourselves. The 
third volume consists of verses, but I would choose 
to print none but such as have some peculiarity, and 
may be distinguished for ours, from other writers. 
There's no end of making books, Solomon said, and 
above all making miscellanies, which all men can 
make. For unless there be a character in every 
piece like the mark of tlie elect, I should not care 
to be one of the twelre thousand signed. 

You received, I hope, some commendatory verses 
from. a horse and a Lilliputian, to Gulliver; and aa 
heroic epistle of Mrs Gulliver. The bookseller 
-would fain have printed them before the second edi- 
tion of the book, but J[ would not permit it without 
» your approbation: nor do I much like tliem. You 
gee how much like a poet I write, and if vou were 
with, us, yon would be deep in politics. "Teopleare 
. T«ry warm and yery. angry, very little to the pur- 


pose, but therefore the more warm and the nwre 
angry: Kon nosirutn est tantas componere Ules. * I 
slay atTwit'naip, without so much as reading nensr 
papers, votes, or any other paltry pamphlets: Jvlr 
St04>rord will carry you a whole parcel of tnmn, 
which are sent for your diversion, but not imitation. 
For my own part, methinks, I am Glubdtibdrib, 
with none but ancients andAirjts about me. 

I am rather better than I use to be at this season, 
but my hand (though, as you see, it has not lost its 
cunning) is frequently in very awkward sensations, ■ 
ralliftr thaq pain. Bnt to convince you it^ is pretty 
well, it has done %oiap mischief already, and jast 
been strong enough to cut the other hfuid, while ik 
■B'as aiming to piunp a.fruit-lree. ^ 

Lady Bolingbroke h^ writ you a long .lively 
letter, which will atleM this; she has veiy bad 
health, he very good. Lord Peterboww has writ 
1 twice to you : we fancy some letters have been in- 
jt terct'pte i, or lost by accident. About ten thou- 
sand things I want to tell you; I wish you were 
a.s impatient to hear them, for if s<\ you would, 
you must CQme early X^ spring. Adieu. L«t 
me have a ^^^ from you. I I^n vexed at losing 
Mr Stqpford %s SQon as 1 knewjiim: but 1 thank 
/^od 1 have known him no foi^r. If every 
man one begins to value must settle in Irdand, 
pray niake me know no qiore of theip, and { ^- 
give you this one. ^ 

BP;$T0|:,4RYnttltBSP0NDtMC».- 137 ^ 


. Dublin, April 8, 17X7. 
Sib, » 

I AM just going for England, and must desire you 
be my proxy at the bishop's visitation, i. I nnd 
ere is likewise a triennial visitation, ana think the 
closed may serve for both, with your fwise ma- 
gement. The ladies are with me, being now 
me to live at the deanery for this summer. You 
,ve their service, and so has Mrs Wallis, as well 
mine. I reckon yon are now deep in mire and 
jrtar, and are preparing to life seven years hence. 
lave been'pJE^ued with the roguery of my deanery 
octor, whom I have discharged. I. believe I am 
>i^e for hinjikix hundred pounds, and ,his brother 
□ot much better. I wish you had been at my 
bow to advise <me, for you are fittef for the world 
an I am. I hope to come safe back, and then to 
we done withr England. 

« I am ever yours, &c. 

Jon. Swift. 


Twit'Dam, Ma7 I, 1737. 
Dbab, Si9, 
Db SwiPi^s come into England, who is now with 
e, and winr wtiom I am to ramble i^in to Ixfcd 
xford's wid Lord Bathurst's, and other places. 
T Arbuthnot has leA him'a course through the 
wp, with Lord Chesterfield, Mf Pulteney, &c. 

r - 






Lopd Peterborow and Lord Harcourt propose to carry 
him to Sir R. Walpole, and I to Mrs Howard, &c. 
I wish you were here to know him. * t have just 
now a very ill-timed misfortune, a lame thigh,^ Which 
keeps me from these parties ; but I hope, since so 
many of my frien^' prayers afe on this occasion 
joined to my own^ that I may be blessed with a 
speedy -^CMvery, and make one amongst them. 
Many gooawishes of mine attend you. May no si- 
milar accident, such as a fall from your horse by 
day, or a spraip in your back by night, retard yoar 
return to us ! 
Your faithful and ever affectionate servant, 

A. Pope. 

•i. • 


London, May 13, 1727. 

This goes by a private hand, for my: writing is 
toj} much known, and my letters often stopped and 
opened. I had yours of the 4th instant, and it is 
the only one 1 have received o^jtjof Ireland, since I 
left you. I hardly thought our friend would J[)e^ in 
danger by a cold : I am of opinion she shouM be 
generally in th£ countiy, and only now and then 

* In a sabseqaent letter, Maj 16, 1727, l|r I)bpe tells Mr 
Fortescue, ^^ There b nobody with me bnt^^ Dean of St 

'8, whp would be hardly tiere if hb wSe not the b«pt 
natured and indulgent man I know ; it is so melantholy a way 
of passing his time. I conld be glad to see, jron, if yon haire a 
day of leunrr, and indeed there are tew friends to witom I conUf 
Wkt this request*" 



. visit the town. — ^We are here in a strabgi^ situatioa ; 
a firm settled resolution to assault the present ad%* 
^,J. ministration, and break it if possible.^ It is certain* 
f;^hat^Walpolei is peeyish and^ disconcerted, stoops to 
"" /th^ vilest offices of hireling scoundrels to write^ii- 
^gsgate of the lowest and tkiost>«prostitute kind, 
i(nd h^s none but beasts and blockheads for his pen- 
men,, whom he pays in ready guineas very liberally. 
I an! in high displeasure with him and his partisafts : 
a great man, who ^as very kind to me last yeaf; 
doth not take^the I^t notice of me at the princ^'d :* 
l^urt, and there hath not been one of them to sSe 
me. I am julvised by all my friends not to go t# 
, ' FVance (as I intended (tfc two months) for fear of 
their vengeance in a mnner which they^xannot 
execufe here.— I reckon there will be a warm win- ^^ 
I > ter, wherein my comfort is, I shall have no concern. 
T desire you wiU read this letter to none but our 

two ffiends aqd Mr P ; his cousin with ^he 

red ribboiilhiquired very kindly after him. — t l^fear 
no news about your -bishops, further than that the 
lord-lieutenant stickles to have them* of Ireland, 
w^hich Walpole always is averse from, but does not 
th«&k it wortl^ his trouble to exert his credit on such 
trifles. The depute about' a war or ^o war still 
oontinues, andihe major part inclines to the latter, 
although ten thousand men are^rdered to Holland. 
But this will bfiug such an^addition to our debts, 
t^at it will eive great advantages against tho86 in 
power, in the next sessions. Walpole laughs at all 
this, but not scAieartily as he used. I have at last 
seen the |)rincess f ^wice this week by her own 


* This alladfi to the coalition of Bolingbroke and Paltenejr. 
-i- Caroline, Princess of Wales, aftgrward queeQ, consort of 
George^H^^H.^ ^ / 


^ominah(|^; she retains her old ciyility, and I my 
'^eldfreedolb;^ s);ie charges: me withoalTceremony to 
4be author of at>ad book,^ though 1 told her how 
angry the ministry were ; but she assures me»4|hsA^« 
bom she an^ the prince were very well pleiqMT 
with every pkriiculaf ; but I disown the whole affur, 
as you know I very^ell might, only gave her lea^, 
since she liked the bocd^, to suppose what.^^uthor 
sKb pleased.— You will wonder to find iine J^y so 
aiuch of politics,^ but I keep very bad ocftnpainrf^ 
who are full of nothing else, t^ray t>e'Very careful 
.of your charge, or I shall order mj^ilodgers the bulk 
^f their glasses, and the^number of their bottles. 
I stole this time to write to you, having very Iktle , 
to spasfe. I go as soon ^ possible to the country, 
and shall rarely see this town. , .H 

My service to all friends. "^ > 

I d^ire you wiU send m^ six setf of the edition of 
(e Drapiers, by tne first cdnvenien^ of any fndnd 
' acquaintance that copies hither. t 





V MajlS,17S7. 

I LIVED on Tues^y with yoif and Mr Pope. 
YeWerday another of m^ friends found his wav $o 
this retreat, f. and I shall pass 4his day alone. j^ 
Would to God my whole |ife coim be divided in 
the same manner; two-thirls to friendship, one- t 

# GTnUiier's TraTel8.-*H. t Dswlejr.— B. 

# • i 








third 4o myselF, and not a moment of it to the'' 

In the epistle, apart of which yoii' show^me/ 
mention is made of the author of Three Occ^ional 
Lgiftrs, * a person entirely unknown. I would have ' 
y^Piqsinuate there, that the only reason Walpole 
cah have had to ascribe them to a (^articular person, 
is the aufhoritviof one of l[i| ilpies, wHo'^Vrigglediy;? ^y 
himself^nto the company of tnose who neither love, •' 
esteent, * nor fear the minister, thalfhe* may report, 
not what he hears (sinc» no roan speaks with any ^ 
freedom before him) but what he guesses. ' • 

^ Friday Morning. 

I was interruptedliiresterday when I least expected 
it; and I am^going to-day to London, where I hear 
^at my wife is not very well. Let me know how 
Mrs Pope dc^s. ^ ^ 

I had a hiflt or two more for you^ but they ImVe 
slipped out qf my memoiyV Do not forget the isixty 
nor the twenty guineas, nor the min—-^ character ^ 
transferred into the administration. AdieU,* I am,. ^ A 
ever faithniUy ^^ours^ iqyidear and reverei\d| d^an. 
I embrace Pope. r *"* ^ ^ ^<B=Es=ss ^ 

t6 AndfelBISHOP KlIfG.t * 

May Ig, 17«7. 
.^ My Lobd, . ^ . 

I UHDEBSTAND, by some lettelrs just come^fc 

P^ jjT— 

t <^Pi4iited in his lorda|ji>'s worka. They, were first published * < 

b February 1 7?6...'.fl. *' ,wu» 

f It is painfuUo obsenre, from Ae fottdwing 1^^, the nn. .^« 

^ i 

\ ^ 


♦ *' 





. my hands, that al flar grace*s yisitatil^n of the deai| 
and chapter of St Patrick's, a proxy was insisted on 
froih tpe dean, the visitation adjourned, and a rule 
enteitd^that a proxy he exhibited within a month. 

^ If yodf<^grace can find, in any of your old recorfl|or 
of ours, that a proxy was ever demanded for a Belt^ 
of S^ Patrick's, you will have some reason to inskt 
^ jppon it : but^ as i^ is a t)i|ng wholly ne W an^ unheard 
of, let the consequences be what ifi^y ^^,^1 shall 
fiever comply wkh it. intake my chllpter'to be my 
proxy, if I warn any: it is^nly through thenar that 
you visit me, and my subdean is to answer for me* 
I am neithea»ciyilian noijcanonist : your grace may 
probably be^th, with the addition of a dexterous 
deputy. My proceeding** shalW[)e only upon 'one 
maxim; never to yield to an oppression, to justifjr 
which no precedei^t can be produced. I see vei^ 
w^how personal all this proceedingj|[s : and how, 
fh)ih the very liloment of .the queen's^death, your "* 
•^ grace hp thought fit to 'take every opportunity of 
'giving me^l sorts of uneasiness, without ever giving 

i^ '*me, in iny whole life, one dngle mark of your favour, 
bey on(t common civilities.' And if it were not belftw 
a man of Spirit to make ^mplaints, I could* date 
them from six and twenty years pask^'^his has some- 
thinf in it the more extraordinary, fa|cause, during 
some vears, wlien I wais thougjg^ to Im^ credit with . 
those in pq.w^ I employed it tathe utmost for your 
. service, with great success, whi|e it c<Kild be most 
useful agsunst many violent enemies y^u then had, 
however unjustly; by which I got taore ill-will 

V : '■ 

eouttag disputes between Swift and ArchMhop King, person^pocr 
^ certaiol J esteemed and respected eacli ^ftjf^^ diapcter and takiaWl^r 
but netertlieless, weie embroi)fd in perpetual quserreis on points oC 
ctclesiasticai jurisdiction, > . 


* ' « 


thai by any othei* action' in nyflife, I mean from - "^ 
niy friends. My lord, I have lived, and by the * 
gAce of God will die, -an enemy to servitude and 
Mwery of all kinds : and I believe, at the same time, 

' -that persons of such a disposition will be the most- 
ready to p^ obedience wherever it is due. Your 
grace has often said, " You would never infrfpge 
any of our liberties." I will call back nothing 
of what is past: I will farget, if I can, that you 
mentioned to me a license to be absent. Neither 
, my ace, health, humouroffortuae, qualify me for 
little brangtes; but I will hold to the practice de-i. 
livered down by my predecessoHk, I tbpnght, and 
■have been told, that I deserreo' better from that 
f>burch and that kingdom : I am sure I do from 
ypur gf ace. And I believe, people on this side wiH 
west, that all my merits are not very old. *- It is ft. 
little hard, that the occasion of my journey hither, 

' being* partly for the advantage of that kingdom, 
partly on account of my healthy partly o,n4>usinesi 
of importance to me, and partly to* see my friends ; 

• I cannoV enjoy the quiet of a few mdnths, without 

* yot^* grace interposing^to disturb it. But, 1'thank 
'■ God, the civilities of those in power here, who al- 
low themselves to be my profe^led adversu'ies, make 
soAk ^toneqi^t for the unkindness of others, who 
hare sb milR^ reason^ to be my friends. I have not 
long to live; and therefore, if conscience were quite-T^ 
out of thfc we^forne to do a base thing, I will set ' 
no unwortQ|E examples for nur successors to follow; 
and, ther^fcM, repeatisg iC«gaJn ^that I sBMi not 

' to bi^ TindloitiDK the ftrclibbho|> to 

_ * He probuhr alladea to bi^ TindloitiDK the ftrcfabbbop to 
* Qnto ADDe'ijtit aiwtnr an Jl remvluble occwioB. Sec 
VorXV.p.388. ■ ^ • * 


r * 


i- concern myself upoaHhe proceedSrg of your IM^ 
^ ship, I aha, &a 






In European characters and EngUsh thus : ^ 
The high and mighty Prmce Egrobgo, bom to • 
i %. the mo9t puissant empire of the East, ^ i.% 

tJnto Stblla, Ae most resplendent glory of the; 
Western hemulpfiere, sendetb health and faap^ 
piness. ^ ' 

^^ BaiGHTBST Princess, 

That invincible hero, the JA^as Mountain^ 
fortunately arriving at our "boasts some years ^tgo, 
delivered us from ^n by conquering the fleets and 
armies pT our eoemies, and gave us hopes of a du- 
rable peskCe and happiness. But now the martial - 
people of Biefuscu, encouraged from his ab^Ace, * 
nave renewed the war, to revenge ppon us the^ 
loss and disgrace tbey suffered by 5>tir vflHant 

champion. *? ^ * 

The fame of your superexcellent paion smd yir- 

Hff^ tue, and the huge esteem whicl|gthat great general 

has for you, ur^d us in this our secoiM^distress to 

sue for your favour. In order to whf|lj^ we have 

• This seems to be sn ^Ltbempt al bamoar, compouiided, pm. t 

nuBe of the pnace, amrwaras Gforge II. ^ 

i Heve we hate a parcel o|Lcl|aiadteirs fonael at laodoi^ b j 
way of ihe address in tJie Ulfipnthui tongue*— D. S. ] 






set our able and trusty nardac Koorbmlob, re- 
questing. That if our general does yet tread upon 
me terrestrial globe, you, in compassion to us, would 
prevail upon him to take another voyage for our de- 

And lest any apprehensions of famine among ns> 
should render nanlac Mountain averse to the un- 
dertaking, we signify to you, that we have stored 
onr folds, our coops, our granaries and cellars with 
plenty of provision for a long supply of the wastes 
to, be made by his capacious stomach. 

And furthermore, because as we hear you are not * 
BO welt as we could wish, we b^ would com- 
plete our happiness by venturing your most valuable 
person along with him into our country ; where, by 
the salubrity of our finer air and diet, you will soon 
recover your health and stomach. '•'■■ 

In full assurance of your complying goodness, we 
have sent you some provision for your voyage, 
and we shall with impatience wait for your ssie ar- 
rival to our kingdom. Most illustrious lady, fare- 
well. Prince Egroego. 

Dated tb« 1 1 th dnj of the 6th moon, in tbe 
2001 year of the Lillipntiaa era. 


I SEND you here enclosed two letters, one for Mr 

* Swift entertdned an idea of TWting France at this period, 
which was Interrupted firstby tbe death of George I. aftBtwardi 
VOL. xyii. S 


de Monrille, our secretary of state^ and the other for 
Mr de Maisons, both desirous and worthy of your 
acquaintance. Be so kind as to let me know ir you 
intend to go by Calais, or by the way of Rouen. 
In case you resolve to go by Rouen, I will give you 
some letters for a good lady, who lives in her coun- 
try castle just by Kouen. She will receive you as 
well as you deserve. There you will find two or 
three of my intimate friends, who are your admirers, 
and who have learned English since I am in .Eng- 
land. All will pay you all the respects, and pro* 
cure all the pleasures they are capable of. They 
will give you a hundred directions for Paris, and 
provide you with all the requisite conveniences. 
Vouchsafe to acquaint me with your resolution; I 
shall certainly do my best endeavours to serve yom, 
and to let my country know, that I have the in- 
estimable honour to be one of your friends. I am, 
with the highest respect and esteem, 

Your most humble obedient faithful servant, 






Je me suis contente jusqu'ici d'^admirer en silence 
yotre conduite dans les affaires de TEurope > mais 

bjT the last tllnest of the unfortunate Stella. The following let. 
ter, with those of introdnctioii inclosed, were designed by Vol- 
taire to facilitate tids. purpose. 


il n'est pas permis k un homme qui aime voire gloire, 
et qui vous est aussi tendrement attache que je le 
6uis, de demeurer plus long temps sans vous faire 
3e» sinc^res compliments. 

Je ne puis d'ailleurs me refuser Thonneur que jne 
fait le c^l^bre Monsieur Swifts de youloir bien vous 
presenter une de mes lettres. Je sai que sa reputa- 
tion est parvenu^ jusqu* k vous, et que vous avez 
envie de le connoitre. II fait Thonneur d'Une nation 
que vous estimeiz. Vous avez lu les traductions de 
plusieurs ouvrages qui lui sont attribues. Eh qui 
est plus capable que vous^^mdnseigneur, de dis- 
cerner les beautes d'un original a travei*s la foiblesse 
des plus mauvaises copies* Je crois que vous ne se- 
rez pas fachk de diner avec Monsieur Swift, et Mon- 
sieur le President Henaut. Et je me flatte que vous 
regarderez comme line preuve de mon sincere at- 
tachement k votre personne, la liberty 9^^ j^ prens 
de vous presenter un des hommes les plus extraor- 
dinaires que TAngleterre ait produit, et les plus ca- 
pable de sentir toute T^teudue de vos grandes qua- 

Je suis pour toute ma vie, avec un profond re-^ 
spect, et un attachement reinpli de la plus haute 

Monseigneur, votre trfes humble ettrds ob^issant 
serviteur, Voltaihe. 


London, June 24, 1727. 

I HAVE received your lastj Witti the. enclosed print. 
I desire you will let Dr Delany know, that I tran- 


scribe the substance of his letter, and the tradtf^ 
lation of what was registered, and added a whole 
state of the case, and gave it Mrs Howard to give 
to the prince from me, and to desire, that as chan- 
cellor, he would do what he thought most fit. • I 
forgot to ask Mrs Howard what was done in it, 
the next time I saw her, and the day I came to 
town came the news of the king's death, of which 
I sent particulars the very same day to our friend ; 
since then we have been all in a hurry, with mil- 
lions of schemes. I deferred kissing the king's and 
queen's hands till the third day, when niy friends at 
court chid me for deferring it so long. I have been 
and am so extremely busy, that though I begin 
this letter, I cannot finish it till next post; for now 
it is the last moment it can go, and I have ntvtch 
more to say. I was just rrady to go to France, 
when the news of the king's f death arrived, and I 
came to town in order to begin my journey. But I 
was desired to delay it, and I then determined it a 
second time : when, upon some new incidents, I was 
with great vehemence dissuaded from it by certain 
persons, whom I could not disobey. Thus things 
stand with me. My stomach is pretty good, but 
for some days my head has not been right, yet it is 
what I have been formerly used to. Here is a strange 
world, and our friend will reproach me for my share 
in it ; but it shall be short, for I design soon to re- 
turn into the country. 1 am thinking of a chan- 
cellor for the university, and have pitched upon one ; 
but whether he will like it, or my word be of any 

• His royal bigbBesg George Prince of Wales, cbaoccUor of 
the onWersity of DubliD. 
f KiDg George I. — U. 




use, I know not. The talk is now for a moderating 
scheme, wherein nobody shall be used the worse or 
better for being called whig or tpry, and the king 
hath received both with great equality, showing ci- 
yilities to sevei-al who are openly known to be the 
latter. I prevailed with a dozen, that we should go 
in a line to kiss the king's and queen's hands. We 
have now done with repining, if we shall be used 
well, and not baited as formerly ; we all agree in it, 
and if things do not mend it i^ not our faults : we 
have made our offers : if otherwise, we are as we 
were. It is agreed the ministry will be changed, but 
the others will have a soft £fill ; although the king 
must be esccessive generous, if he forgivj^s the treat- 
ment of some people. * I writ long ago my thoughts 
to mj viceroy, and he may proceed as he shall be 
advised. But if the archbishop f goes on to proceed 
to sub poena contemptiksy &c. 1 would have an ap« 
peal at proper time, which I suppose must be to 
delegates, or the crown, I know not which. How- 
ever I will spend a hundred or two pounds, rather 
than be enslaved, or betray a right which I do not 
value threepence, but my successors may. My 
service to all friends ; and so thinking I have said 
enough, I bid you farewell heartily, and long to eat 
of your fruit, for I dare eat none here. It hath cost 
me five shillings in victuals since I came here, and 
ten pounds to servants where I have dined. I sup- 
pose my agent X in Ship Street %ke% care and in* 
quires about my new agent. 

■ I 11 ■■ ■ ■ I II .11 ^1— .— ^— ^^^^» 

^ Walpole, who is here aimed at, had secured himself better 
than Swift, or the public were aware of, and was pretty sure 
that he had acquired the interest most necessary for his remain* 
ing in office— the fayoor, namely, of Queen Caroline, 

f Dr William King.—H. 

X Hev. Mr John Wornai«-.0. 




Satardaj, at Pope'si June 24> 1727. 

I AM going to London, and intend to carry this 
letter, which I will give you if I see you, and leave 
for yoH if I do not see you. 

.There would not be common sense in your going 
into France at this juncture, even if you intended to 
stay there*long enoughtodraw the sole pleasture and 
profit, which I propose you should have in the ac- 
quaintance I am ready to give you there. Much 
less ought you to think of such an unmeaning jour- 
ney, when the opportunity for quitting Ireland for 
England is, I believe, fairly before you. To hanker 
after a court is fit for men with blue ribbands, pom- 
pous titles, and overgrown estates. It is below either 
you or me : one of whom never made his fortune, 
and the otlier's turned rotten at the very moment it 
grew ripe. But, without hankering, without assu- 
ming a suppliant dependant's air, you may spend 
in England all the time you can be absent from 1 re- 
land, etfaire le guerre i VoeiL There has not been 
so much inactivity as you imagine; but 1 cannot 
answer for consequences. Adieu. 

If you can call on me to-morrow morning in your 
way to church, about ten o'clock, you will find mo 
just returning to Cranford from the Pall-Mall. 

I shall be returned again to London on Mondajr 


/ « 


» * 

i • 



Cranford, Tuesday. 

I HAVE SO severe a defluxion of rheum on both 
Hay eyes, that I dare hardly stir abroad. You will 
be ready to say, physician, cure thyself; and that 
is what I am about. I took away, by cupping, 
yesterday, fourteen ounces of blood ; and such an 
operation would, I believe, have done you more 
good than steel and bitters, waters and drops/ I 
wish John Gay success in his pursuit ; but I think 
he ba3 some qualities which will keep him down in' 
Uie world. Good God ! what is man ? polished, ci ' 
vilized, learned man ! A liberal education fits him 
for slavery ; and the pains he has taken give him 
the noble pretension of dangling aWay life in an an- 
ti-chamber, or of employing reftal talents to serve 
those who h^ve none ; or, which is worse than all 
thfe rest, of making his reason and his knowledge 
serve all the purposes of other men's follies and vices. 
You say not a word to me about the public, of 
whom I think as seldom as possible. 1 consider 
myself as a man with some little satisfaction, and 
with some use ; but I have no pleasure in thinking 
I am an Englishman; nor is U, I doubt, to much 
purpose, to act like one. Serpit enim res^ qtue pro- 
clivis ad pernicienij cum semel cxpit^ labitur. Plures 
enim discunt quemadmodum htBCjiant^ ^uam quemad- 
modufh his resistatur. Adieu. 

Let me know how you do. If your Jandlord* is* 
returned, my kindest services to him. 

Mr Pope, Hiet Dean bebg at TwicKenham. 

• - 




You may be sure of letters from me to people, 
who will receive you with all the honours due to so 
great a traveller, and so exact an author. I am 
obliged to stay in the country to-morrow, by some 
business relating to my poor farm, which I would 
willingly make a rich one ; and for which purpose 
a person is with me, who comes from Suffolk on my 

On Tuesday, by seven in the evening, I will cer- 
tainly be in the Pali-Mall, and there you shall have 
if you meet me, and not otherwise, both my letters 
and instructions, which will be of use to you. 

Raillery apart : since you do go into France, I 
shall be glad to talk with you before your departure ; 
and i fancy you would not leave England without 
embracing the man in England who loves you best. 
Adieu. My best services attend all with you. 


Twickenham, Jalj 1,1737. 

I HAD yours of June 22. You complain of not 
hearing from me ; I never was so constant a writer. 
I have writ six times tp our friends, and as many to 

f Endorsed ^^ Lord Bolingbroke, on mj going to France^ 
aboQt Jane 17i7«"— N. 



you. Mr Pope is reading your Persius ; he is fre- 
quently sick, and so at this time ; he has read it, 
but you (Tiust wait till next letler for his judgment. 
He would know whether it is designed for an ele- 
gant translation, or only to show the meaning ; I 
reckon it an explanation of a difficult author, not 
only for learners, but for those also who are not ex* 
pert in Latin, because he is a very dark author : I 
Would not have your book printed entire, till I treat 
with my bookseller here for your advantage. There 
is a word (concacuus) which you have not explained, 
lior the reason of it. Where you are ignorant, you 
should confess you are ignorant. I writ to Stella 
the day we heard the king was dead, and the cir- 
cumstances of it. I hold you a guinea, I shall for- 
get something. Worrall writ to me lately. In an- 
swer, I desire that when the archbishop comes to a 
determination, that an appeal be properly lodged, 
by which I will elude him till my return, which will 
be at Michaelmas. I have left London, and stay 
here a week, and then I shall go thither again; just 
to see the queen, and so come back hither. Here 
are a thousand schemes wherein they would have 
me engaged, which I embraced but coldly, because 
I like none of them. I have been this ten days in- 
clined to my old disease of giddiness, a little totter- 
ing ; our friend understands it, but I grow cautious, 
am something belter; cyder and champaign and 
fruit have been the cause. But now I am very re- 
gular, and I eat enough. I toojk Dr Delany's paper 
to the king when he was prince ; he and his secre- 
tary* are discontented with the provost, f but they 

* Samuel Molyneox, Esq. 

f Rey. Mr Baldwin. The Dean allades to some dispute mea« 
tioned in a preceding letter to Dr Sheridan^ of the 34th June. 




find he has kw on his side. The king's death hath 
broke that measure. I proposed the Prince of Wales 
to be chancellor, and I believe so it will go. Pray 
copy out the verses I writ to Stella on her collecting 
my verses, and send them to me, for we want some 
to make our poetical miscellany large enough, and 
. I am not there to pick what should be added. Direct 
them, and all other double papers, to Lord Bathurst, 
in St James's Square, London. I .was in a fright 
about your verses on Stella's sickness, but glad when 
they were a month old. 

Desire our friends to let me know what I should 
buy for them here of any kind. I had just now a 
long letter from Mrs Dingley, and another from Mr 
Synge. Pray tel! the latter, that I return him great 
thanks, and will leave the visiting affair to his dis- 
cretion. But all the lawyers in Europe shall never 
persuade me, that it is in the archbishop's power to 
take or refuse my proxy, when I have the king's 
leave of absence. If he be violent, I will app^, 
and die two or three hundred pounds poorer to de- 
fend the rights of the dean. Pray aSk Mr Synge 
whether his fenocchio be grown; it b now fit to eat 
here, and we eat it like celery, either with or with- 
out oil, &c. I design to pa^s my time wholly in the 
country, having some business to do, and settle, be- 
fore I leave England for the last time. I will send 
you Mr. Pope's criticisms, and my own, on yOur 
work. Pray forget nothing of what 1 desire you. 
Pray God bless yep all. if th^ king had lived but' 
ten days longer, l should be now at Paris. Sim- 
pleton ! the Drapiers should have been sent up- 
bound, but it is no great matter; two or tiiree would 
have been enough. I see Mrs Fad but seldon:i; I 
never trouble them but when J am sent for : she ' 
expects me soon, and after that .perhaps no more 




"» . 

while I am here. I desire it may be told that I never 
go to coart, which I mention because of a passage* 
in Mrs Dingley's letter ; she speaks mighty good 
diings of your kindness. I do not want that poem 
to Stella to print it entire, but some passages out of 
it, if they deserve it, to lengthen the volume. Read 
all this letter without hesitation, and I will give you 
a pot of ale. I intend to be with you at Michaelmas, . 
bstr impossibilities* 

• k 


A Rrb, le 4 Juillct, 1727. 

J'ai rhonneur, monsieur, de vous envoyer la 2de 
^ditionde votre ouvrage, que j*ai traduit en Ffan9oisi 
Je vous aurois envoy 6 la premiere, si je n'avois pas 
kik oblig^, pour des raisons que je jie puid vous dire, * 

d*ins6rer dans la pr^fade un endroit, dont vous 
n'aurtez pas eu lieu d'etre content, ce que j'ai inis . *' * 
assur^ment malgr^ moi. Comme le livre s'est d6« . ' 

bit^ . sans contradiction, ces raisons ne subsistent 
'plus, et j'ai aussitdt supprim^ cet endroit dans la 
2de Edition, comme vous verrez. J'ai aussi corrig^ 
Tefidroitde Monsieur Carteret, sur lequel j'avois ea • { J 
de faux memoires. Vqus trouverez, monsieur, en* 

r r 

* I^ter Vrancis Gujet des Fontaines,' born at Rouen, in Nor* 
mandjT^ JoneiP^ \^%b^ entered into the society of the Jesuits ia 
1700 ; but quitted it fifteen jears after. He lived some yeavt 
-with the Cardinal d'AuTbrgne ; and died at Paris, December 16^ 
1745, being Well known for fieyeraf works, and particularly for 
bfs ^' Obscrtations sur les Ouyirages Modernes,^* In 33 Tolnmef ; 
and bis ^* Jugement sur les Ecrits MoHTtanx,*' in 1 1 Tolnmes. — ^H. 

• I 


\ • 

. * ■ ■* 

* ■ 


beancoup d'endroits nne traduction peu fidelle; 
mais tout ce qui plait en Angleterre, n'a pas ici le 
mSme agr^ment ; soit parceque les moenrs scmt dif- 
f<&rentes ; soit parceque les allusions et les allegories, 
qui sont sensibles dsuis un pays, ne le sont pas dans 
un autre ; soit enfin parceque le gofkt des deux na* 
tions n'est pas le m^me. J*ai voulu donner aux 
Fran9ois un livre, qui fut k leur usage : voila ce qui 
m'a rendu traducteur libre et peu fidelle.* J'ai 

* The Abbe des Fontaines has, in the preface to the tiaosiu 
tion, giTen his readers the principles upon which he has in some 
passages departed from his original. 

** Sor la fin de Tann^ demiere M. Swift publia k Liondres la 
Voyages du Capitaine Ixmnel Gnlliyer, dont il s'agit. Un leig. 
neor Anglois, qui reside a Pkris, les ayant presqne anssitot repns 
d'Angleterie, me fit Thonneor de m'en parler coranie d'na livra • 
agr^ble et plein d'esprit. Le suffrage de ce seigneur qoi m laU 
ra^me beaucoup d*esprit, de go(it et de litteratnre, me prerint ca 
faTenr du ]i?re. Quelquc^ autres Anglois de ma connoiasaiiOB, 
dont j'estime aussi beaucoup les lumi^res, en' f[>ort^reiit le 
jugement ; et comme its safoient que depuis qnelque tenw j'l 
un peu appris leur langue, ils m'exhortdreot 4 faire connoitre cet 
ouyrage ingcnieux i la France, par une traduction qui piit i€. 
pondre k roriginaU 

** Dans ce m^me tems, un »mi de M. de Voltaire, iie nMMitra 
nne lettre de fraiche date, ^crite de Londres, oik cet illnstre pdetm 
irantoit beaucoup le liyre nouyeau de M. Swift, et atsuroit que 
n*ayoit jamais rien In de plus amusant ct de plus spiritvel ; et 
que, s'il 4toit bien tradnit en Fran^ob, il auroit un sncces 

** Tout cela me fit nattre, an commencement du mois de Feyrier 
de cette ann6e*, non seulement I'enyie de le Hre, man mSme le 
dessein de le traduire, en cas que je m'eo sentisse capable, ct que 
je le trouyasse conforme k iuon goiHt Je le Ins, et n'y trouyai 
aucnne obscurity. Mais j'ayeu^ que les trente premi^fea pages 
ne me firent ancun plaisir. L*arriyee de Gulliyer dans rempiie 
de IJlllput, la description de ce pays et de tes habitans qui 
n'ayoient que six ponces de hauteur, et le detail circonttande de 
Icurs sentimens et de leur conduite k Tegard d'un Stranger qui 
6toit pour eux un g^t^ tout ceb me pamt asscz froid €t d^un 


tnSme pris la liberty d'ajouter, selou que votre ima- 
gination ^chauffoit la mienne. C'est k vous seid. 

a&rite 'mediocre} et me fit craindre que tout Touynge ne fAt dn 
m^me go<kt. 

'^ l&is, qnand j*eas an pea plas ayanc^ dans la lecture du 
liTre^ mes idees eliaiig^reiit, et je recopuus qu'oa aToit eu ratsoii 
de me le Tauter. J*j trouTai des choies amuniiftes et jadicieoaeiy 
time fiction lontenne, de fines ironies, des allegories plaisantet^ 
nne morale sens^ et iibre, et par.tout une critique badine et 
pleine de sel ; je trouT^ii, en un mot, un livre tont-a.fsut nenf et 
original dans son genre. Je ne balan^Ai plus ; je me mis h le 
tnutaire, uniqnement pour ma propre uttlite, c'eat»i^dire, ponr 
me perfectionner dans la connoissance de la langue Angloise, qui 
commence ^ ^tre ^ la mode k Faris, et que plusieurs personnes do 
distinction et de m^rite ont depuis pen apprise. 

'^ Je Ins quelques moroeaux de ma traduction k des amis ^clair^s, 
et qwk se connoissent en bonnes ploisanteries. J'obsertai la premiere 
kigiriBSsiott que eel aptoduisoit sur eux, et y fis, selon ma con- 
tnme, bien plus d'attention qu'aux reflexions aTantageuses qui 
suiTirent. Enfin, d&termin^ par leurs suffrages et leurs conseils, 
je r^olus d'acheier ma traduction, et-de risquer de la donner au 
/ pablk. 

<* Je ne puis n6anmoins dissimulet ici, que j'ai trouT^ dans 
I'ouTrage de Monsieur Swift des endroits foibles et m^me tres. 
mauTuis, des allegories imp6n6trable8, des allusions insipides, des 
details pueriles, des seflexions triTiales, des pensees basses, des 
ledtles ennuyeuses, des polissoneries grossi^res, des plaisanteries 
fades ; en un mot, des cboses qui, litt^ralement en Franfois 
auroient paru indeoentes, pitpyables, impertinentes, auroient 
refolte le bon go6t qui r^gne en Prance, m'auroient m^me cou« 
Tert de confusion, et m'auroient infailliblement attir6 de justcs 
reprocbes, si j'UTois ^te assez foible et assez imprudent pour Ics 
exposer aux >-eux du public 

*^ Je sais quelques-uns r^pondent que tons ces endroits qui 
thoquent, sunt allegoriques, et ont du scl pour ceux qui les en- 
tendent Pour moi qui ^ n'cn ai point la clef, non plus que ces 
messiesff mime qui eu font Fapologie, et qui ne puis ni ne tcux 
troufeF I'efx plication de tons ces beaux my stores, je declare qui 
j'ai cru devoir prendre le (larti de les supprimer enti^rement. Si 
j*ai, peut.6tre, laiss^ encore qudque chose de ce genre dans ma 
traduction^ je prie le public de songer qu'il est nature! h un tra« 



• » 

•_ • 

monsieur, que je. suis redevable de Thonneur, que 
.tne fait cette traduction, qui a kt6 d^bitee ici avec 
uue rapidit6 ^tbnnante, et dont il y a dfeji trois Edi- 
tions. Je suis pEnetrE d'une si grande estime pour 
vous, et je vous suis si obligE, qui si la suppression, 
que j*ai faite, ne vous satisfaisoit pas enti^rement, 
je ferai voluntiers encore d'avantage poilr eflTacer 
jusqu'au souvenir de cet endroit de la pri&face ; au 
surplus, je vous supplie, monsieur, de vouloir bien 
iaire attention k la justice, que je vous ai rendfte 
dan^ la m£me preface. 

On se ilatte, monsieur, qu^on'aurabientot Tbon-* 

, neur de vous possMer ici. Tous vos amis vous at- 
tendent avec impatience. 

On ne parle ici que de votre arrivfee, et tout Paris 
souhaite de vous voir. Ne difiS^rez pas notre satis- 
faCction : vous verrez un peuple, qui vous estime in- 
finiment. En attendant je vous demande, monnMnv 
Thonneur lie votre anut^, et vous prie d'etre per- 

. suadE, que personne ne vous honore plus que moi, 
et n'est avec plus de consideration et d'estime, voire 
trfes humble,'et tr^s obeissant serviteur, 

* * . L'Ab^E DeS FoNtAINES. 


Mr Arbuthnot a bien voulft se charger de vous 
faire tenir cette lettre avec Texemplaire que j -ai 
I'honneur de vous env6yer. 


• r 

f ■*. 


ducteur de laisser. gagner, et d'aroir quelquefois on pen tr6p 
dlndulgence pour son aotear. Aa re^te, je me BuU figure quo 
j'^tois capable de supplfer h ces d^faats, ^t de r^parer ces pertes 
par le secours de mon imaginatioa, et par de certains toan qoe 
je donneroia aai cbosei m^oie qui me d^plaisolent. J'en dis asacz 
pour faire connoitre le caragt^re de la tTaidnctlon.''->*Vo7age9 
Imaginaires, Tome XIV^ p. itUxzI. 



II y a plu8 (Fun mois que j'aye recu votr^ lettrc 
du 4e Juillet^ monsieur; mais Texemplaire de la 
2de Edition de v6tre ouvrage ne m'a pas kie encore 
remis. J'ai Id la preface de la premiere ; et vou9 
me permettrez de vous dire, que j 'aye ktk fort sur- 
pris d'y voir, qii'en me donilant pour patrie un pais, 
dans lequel je suis n6, vous avez, trouve k propos 
de m'attribuer uti livre^ qui porte le nom de son 
auteur, qui a ^u le malheur de deplaire k quelques 
uns de nos ministres, et que je n'ai jamais aVou^. 
Cette plainte, que je fais de votre conduite k mon 
egard, ne m'emp^che pas de vous rendre justice^ 
Les traducteurs donnent pour la plupart des louanges 
excessives aux ouvrages qu'ils traduisent, et s*ima^ 
ginent peut-6tre, que leur reputation dfepend en 
quelque fa^on de celles des auteurs, qu'ils ont choisis. 
JVIais vous avez senti vqs forces, qui vous mettent aa 
dessus de pareilles precautions. Capable de corri- 
ger un mauvais livre, entreprise plus difficile, que 
celle d'en composer un bon, vous n'avez pas craint, 
de donner au public la traduction d'un ouvrage^ 
<}ue vous assurez Stre plein de polissoneries, de sot- 
^ises, de puerilit^s, &c. Nous convenons ici, que 
2e gohi des nations n'est pas tou jours le meme. Mais 
oious sommes portfes k croire, que le bon goftt est le 
^mSme par tout, oii il y a des gens d'esprit^ de juge-' 

* From the Dean's answer to the Abbe*s letter, it wovlU seem 
lie dicl not feel highly gratified with the retrenchments and alte. 
lotions which were deemed necessary by the translator, to ac^ 
Commodate Gnlliyer's Trayels to the French taste. 

■ '\ 


ment et de s^avoir. Si done les livres da sieur 
Gulliver ne sont calcules que pour les isles Britan- 
niques, ce voyageur doit passer pour un tr^s pitoy- 
able ^crivain. Les mSmes vices et les mSmes folies 
regnent par tout ; du moins, dans tons les pays ci- 
vilises de TEurope : et Tauteur, que n'^crit que pour 
une ville, une province^ un royaume, ou mSme un 
si^cle, merite si peu d'etre traduit, qu'il ne m^rite 
pas d'etre lA. 

Les partisans de ce Gulliver, que ne laissent pas 
d'etre en fort grand nombre chez nous, soutiennent, 
que son livre durera autant que notre langage, parce 
quMl ne tire pas son merite de certaines modes on 
mani^res de penser et de parler, mais d*une suite 
d'observations sur les imperfections, les folies, et les 
vices de Thomme. 

Vous jugez bien, que les gens, dont je viens de 
vous parler, n'approuvent pas fort votre critique ; et 
vous serez sans doute surpris de s9avoir, qu'ils re- 
gardent ce chirurgien de vaisseau, comme un auteur 
grave, qui ne sort jamais de son s^rieux, qui n'em- 
prunte aucun fard, que ne se pique point d*avoir de 
Fesprit, et qui se contente de communiquer au pub- 
lic, dans une narration simple et naive, les avantures, 
que lui sont arriv^es, et les choses qu'il a viies, ou 
entendues dire pendant ses voyages. 

Quant k Tarticle (|ui regarde Milord Carteret, sans 
m'informer d'ou vous tirez vos memoires, je vous 
dirai, que vous n'avez 6crit que la moiti^ de la v^- 
Tiik ; et que ce Drapier* ou reel ou suppose, a sauvi 
rirlande, en menant toute la nation centre un pro- 
jet, qui devoit enrichir au d^pens du public un cer- 
tain nombre de particuliers. 

Plusieurs accidens, qui sont arrives, m'empSche- 
ront de faire le voyage de France pr^entement, et 
je ne suis plus assez jeune pour me flatter de re« 



troaver nn autre occasion. Je s^aife, 4]iie j'aye perdA 
beaucoap, et je . suis tr^s sensible It cetle perte. 
L'oniqiie consolation, qui me reste, c'est de songer, 
que j'en sopporterai mteax le pays^ atiquel la for- 
tune m'a condamne. 



Twickenham, July 9, 1727, between 
church and diDner.time. 

Mr Gay, by yonr commands, as he says, shewed 
me a letter to you from an unfortunate lady, one 
Mrs Pratt, wliose case I know very well, and pity 
very nmch; but 1 wonder she would make any 
mention of me, who am almost a stranger to you, 
further than your goodness led you a little to dis- 
tinguish me. I have often told Mrs Pratt, that 1 
had not the least interest with the friend's friend's 
friend of anybody in power ; on the contrary, 1 have 
been used like a dog for a dozen years, by every 
soul who was able to do it, and were bat sweepers * 
about a court. I believe you will allow that I know 
courts well enough, to remember, that a man mu^t 
have got many degrees above the "power of recom- 
mending himself, before he should presume to re- 
commend another, even his nearest relation ; and, 
for my own part, you may, be sure that I will never 
venture to reconunend a mouse to Mrs Cole's cat, 
or a sifaoe*cleaner to your meanest domestic. But 
you know too well already how very inj udicious the 
general tribe of wanters are. I told Mrs Pratt, th^t 
if she had friends, it were best' to solicit a pension; 
bat it seems she had mentioned a place. I can only 

VOL. xvif. ,. L 


say, that when I was about courts, the best lady 
there had some cousin, or near dependant, whom 
she would be glad to recommend for an employ- 
ment, and therefore would hardly think of strangers : 
For I take the matter thus ; that a pension may pos- 
^sibly be got by commiseration, but great personal 
favour is required for an employment. There are, 
madam, thousands in the world, who, if they saw 
your dog use me kindly, would, the next day, in a 
letter, tell me of the delight they heard I had in 
doing good ; and being assured that a word of mine 
to you would do any thing, desire my interest to 
speak to you, to speak to the speaker, to speak to 
Sir Robert Walpole, to speak to the king, &c. Thus 
wanting people are like drowning people, who lay 
hold of every reed or bulrush in their way. 

One place I humbly beg for myself, which* is'ln 
your gift, if it be not dispos^ of; I mean the per- 
quisite of all the letters and petitions you receive, 
which, being generally of fair, large, strong paper, 
I can sell to good advantage to the band-box and 
trunk-makers, and I hope will annually make a 
pretty comfortable penny. 

I hear, while 1 was at church, Mr Pgpe wrote to 
you upon the occasion of Mrs Pratt's letter ; but 
they will not shew me what is writ : therefore I will 
not trust them, but resolved to justify myself; and 
they shall not see this. 

1 pray God grant you patience, and preserve your ' 
eye-sight; but confine your memory to the service * 
of your royal mistress, and the happiness of your 
truest friends, and give ybu a double portion of your 
own spirit to distinguish them. I am, with the truest 
respect, Madam, your most obedient and most obli- 
ged humble servant, 





Twitenham Garret, Thursday 
morning, at nine* 

Madam Patt, 
Vou are commanded by Mr Pope to read that 
part of the enclosed which relates to Mr Gay and 
yourself, and to send a direct answer to your hum- 
ble servant by my humble servant the bearer. Being 
at an end of all my shoes and stockings, I am not 
able to wait on you to-day, after do rainy a night 
and so suspicious a morning. 

Mrs Pope is yours ; but I, with the greatest re* 
spect, Madam^ 

Your most obedient and devoted servant, 

JoNATH. Swift. 

Pray do not give a copy of this letter to Curll tlie 


[August 1727.] Taesday, 

I RETURN you the papers, whidh I have read 
twice over since you was here. They are extremely 
y well ; but the Craftsman has not only advertised the 
public, that hf intetlded to turn newswriter^ he has 
begun, and for some weeks continued to appear un- 
der that new character. This consiideration inclines 
me to think, that another turn might be given to 
the introduQtioh ; and perhaps this would natundly 




call for a fourth letter from the Occasional Writer, 
to account for his silence, to prosecute your argu- 
ment, to state the present disputes about political 
affairs, and, in short, to revive and animate the pa- 
per war. When we meet next, I will explain my- 
self better than I can do by a letter writ in haste, 
with mowers and haymakers about me. Adieu. Let 
Pope share my embraces with you. 



Lord B. is so ill, and so much alone^ the com- 
mon fate of those who are out of power,* that I have 
not left him one day since my return from London. 
Let me know how you are. Say someUiing kind 
from me to Pope. Toss John Gay over the water 
to Richmond, if he is with you. Adieu. 


Elerea o*cIock, Tuesday morning. 

I AM obliged to you all for your compliments, and 
when the Dean is well enough, I hope to see you in 
town. You will probably find me a much happier 
man than when you saw me last ; for I flatter my- 

* It does not appear who was the writer of this short ktter« 
Pefliaps Mr Polteney. 



self, that in an hour or two I shall be once more 
blessed with a son. Mrs Pulteney is now in labour ^ 
if she does well and brings me a boy, I shall not 
care one sixpence how much longer Sir Robert go- 
verns England, or Horace governs France. I am 
ever yours. W, P. 


Paris, August 1, 1727. 

Reverend Sir, 
Mr Hook having acquainted me with what good- 
ness and patience you have been pleased to exa» 
mine a performance of mine, j* I take this occasion 
to make my acknowledgments. Nothing could flat- 
ter me more sensibly than your approbation. To 
acquire the esteem of persons of your merit, is the 
principal advantage I could wish for by becoming 
an author, and more than I could flatter myself with. 
I should be prpud of receiving your commands, if t 
could be any way useful to you in this part of the 
world; where, I assure you, your reputation is as 
-well established as in your own country. I am, with 
the utmost regard and esteem, reverend Sir, your 
inost humble, and most obliged, obedient servant, 

A. Ramsay. 

* Endorsed by the Dean, <^ Scotch t^uthor in France.'* 
f The Trayels of Cyrus. 




August^ 1727. 

I WHITE to you to please myself. I hear you are 
melancholy because you have a bad head, and deaf 
ears. These are two misfortunes I have laboured 
under these many years, and yet was never peevish 
with myself or the world. Have I more philosophy 
and resolution than you ? Or am I so stupid that I 
do not feel the evil ? Is this meant in a goodnatured 
view ? or do I mean, that I please myself, when I 
insult over you ? Answer these queries in writing, if 
poison or other methods do not enable you soon to 
appear in person. Though I make use of your own 
word poison, give me leave to tell you, it. is non- 
sense ', and I desire you will take more care, for the 
time to conie, how you endeavour to impose upon 
my understs^nding, by making no use of your own. 


Twickeoham, August 12, 1727. 

I AM cleverly caught, if ever gentleman was cle- 
verly caught ; for three days after I came to towu 
with LoM Oxford* from Cambridgeshire, which 
was ten days ago, my old deafuess seized me^ and 

'ji» .' 

* Son of the late right hpnonrable Robert Harley, lord high- 
treasiirer of £ngbuid| created Earl of Oxford and Mortimer bj 
Queen Anne* 



hath continued ever since with great increase ; so 
that I am now deafer than ever you knew me, and 
yet a little less I think than I was yesterday ; but 
which is worse, about four days ago my giddiness 
seized me, and I was so very ill, that yesterday I 

' took a hearty vomit, and though I now totter, yet I 
think I am a thought better ; but what will be the 
event, I know not ; one thing I know, that these 
deaf fits use to continue five or six weeks, and I am 
resolved if it continues, or my giddiness, some days 
longer, I will leave this place, and remove to GreeU'* 
wich, or somewhere near London, and take my cou- 
sin Lancelot to be my nurse. Our friends know 
her ; it is the same with Pat Rolt. * If my disorder 
should keep me longer than my license of absence 
lasts, I would have you get Mr Worrall to renew it ; 
it will not expire till the sixth or seventh of October, 
and I resolved to begin my journey September L5th. 
Mr Worrall will see by th"e date of my license what 

- time the new one should commence ; but he has 
seven weeks yet to consider : I only speak in time. 
I am v^ry qneasy here, because so many of our ac- 
quaintance come to see us, and I cannot be seen ;, 
besides, Mr Pope is too sickly and complaisant; 
therefore I resolve to go somewhere else. This is a 
little unlucky, my head will not bear writing long : 
I want to be at home, where I can turn you out, or 
let you in, as I think best. The king and queen 
come in two days to our neighbourhood ; I and there 
I shall be expected, and cannot go ; which, how- 
ever, is none of my grievances, for I would rather . 

* P^tty Rolt, often mentioned in the Journal as a relaUon o( 
Swift. The friends mentioned were Stella and Dinglejr, 
f Richmond. 



be absent, and have now too good an excuse* I be- 
Here this giddiness is the disorder, that will at. last 
get the better of me ; but I wooid rather it should 
not be now ; and I hope and believe it will not, for 
I am now better than yesterday. Since my dinner 
my giddiness is much better, and my deafness a 
hair^s breadth not so bad. It is just as usua]> worst 
in the morning and at evening. I will be very tem* 
perate ; and in the midst of peaches, figs, necta* 
rines, and mulberries, I touch not a bit. I hope I 
shall, however^ set out in the midst of September, 
as I designed. This is a long letter for an ill head: 
so adieu. My service to our two friends and all 


Twickenham, Anfiut 15, 1727. 

I WISH I were a young lord, and you were unmar* 
ried : I should make you the best husband in the 
world, for I am ten times deafer than ever you were 
in your life ; * and instead of a poor pain in my face, 
I have a good substantial giddiness and headach. 
The best of it is, that although we might lay our 
heads together, you could tell me no secrets that 
might not be heard five rooms distant. These dis- 
orders of mine, if they hold me as long as they 
used to do some years ago, will last as long as my 

^ Mn Howard was, howerer, rery deaf. Madame Deffiiad, 
m mentioniog her to Horace Walpole always calls her- Fotre 


leave of absence, which I shall not renew : and then 
the queen will have the misfortune not to see me, 
and i shall go back with the satisfaction never to 
have seen her since she was queen, but when I kiss- 
ed her hand. And, although she were a thousand 
queens, I will not lose my privilege of never seeing 
her but when she commands it« I told my two 
landlords, that I would write you a love-letter; 
which, I remember, you commanded me to do last 
year: but I would not show it to either of them. I 
am the greatest courtier and flatterer you have ; be- 
cause I try your good sense and taste, more than all 
of them put together, which is the greatest com- 
pliment I could put upon you ; and you have hi- 
therto behaved yourself tolerably well under it; 
much better than your mistress, if what a lady told 
me was true : that talking with the queen about me, 
her majesty said, ^^ I was an odd sort of a man.'' 
But I forgive her ; for it is an odd thing to speak 
freely to princes. 

I will say another thing in your praise, that good- 
ness would become you better than any person I 
know : and for tliat very reason, there is nobody I 
yvistk to be good so much as yourself. 

I am, &c. 


Twickenham, August 19^ 1737. 


About two hours before you were bom I got my 

giddiness, by eating a hundred golden pippins at a 

time at Richmond; and when you were four years 

and a quarter old, bating two days, having made a 


fine seat about twenty miles further in Sorry, whera 

I used to read and ^ there I got my deafness ; 

and these two friends have visited me> one or other, 
every year since, and being old acquaintance, have 
now thought fit to come together. So much for the 
calamities wherein I have the honour to resemble 
you 'y and you see your sufferings are but children 
in comparison of mine ; and yet, to shew my philo-* 
sophy, I have been as cheerful as Scarron. You 
boast that your disorders never made you peevish. 
Where is the virtue when all the world was peevish 
on your account, and so took the office out of your 
hands ? Whereas I bore the whole load myself, no- 
body caring threepence what I suffered, or whether 
I were hanged or at ease. I tell you my philosophy 
is twelve times better than yours ; for I can call wit-i 
nesses that I bear half your pains, beside all my own, 
which are in themselves ten times greater. Thus 
have I most fully answered your queries. I wish 
the poison were in my stomach (which maybe very 
probable, considering the many drugs I take,) if I 
remember to have mentioned that word in my letter. 
But ladies who have poison in their eyes, may be 
apt to mistake in their reading. * O ! I have found 
it out ; the word person I suppose was written like 
poison. Ask all the friends I write to, and they 
will attest this mistake to be but a trifle in my way 
of writing, and could easily prove it if they had any 
of my letters to show. I make nothing of mistaking 
untoward for Howard; wellpuU for Walpole ; knights 
of a share, for knights of a shire ; monster, for mi- 
nister; in writing speaker, I put an n for a /i; and 
a hundred such blunders, which cannot be helped^ 

^ See Mrs ^oward*8 l^tter^ August^ IT^Ti 


labile I have a hundred oceans rolling in my ears, 
into which no sense has been poured this fortnight ; 
and therefore if I write nonsense^ I can assure you 
it is genuine, and not borrowed. Thus I write by 
your commands ; and beside, I am in duty bound 
to be the last writer. But, deaf or giddy, hearing 
or steady, I shall ever be, with the truest regard, 

Your most obedient 

and most humble servant, 

JoN. Swift. 


TwickeDham, August 29, 1727* 

I HAVE had your letter of the 19th, and expect, 

before you read this, to receive another from yoU 

with the most fatal news that can ever come to me, 

unless [ should be put to death for some ignominious 

crime. * I continue very ill with my giddiness and 

deaihess, of which I had two days intermission, but 

since worse, and I shall be perfectly content if God 

shall please to call me away at this time. Here is 

. a triple cord of friendship broke, which hath lasted 

thirty years, twenty-four of which in Ireland, . I 

b^g* if you have not writ to me before you get this, 

to tell me no particulars, but the event in general : 

my weakness, my age, my friendship will bear no 

more. I have mentioned the case as well as I knew 

it to a physician, who is my friend ; and I find his 

* The account of Stella^s last illness. 



methods were the same, air and exercise, and at I^ 
ass's milk. I will tell you sincerely, that if I were 
younger, and in health, or in hopes of it, I would 
endeavour to divert my mind by all methods in ord^ 
to pass my life in quiet ; but 1 now want only three 
months of sixty. I am strongly visited with a dis- 
ease, that will at last cut me off, if I should this 
time escape ; if not, I have but a poor remainder, 
and that is below any wise man's valuing. 1 do not 
intend to return to Ireland so soon as I purposed ; I 
would not be there in the very midst of grief, I 
desire you will speak to Mr Worrall to get a new 
license about the beginning of October, when my 
old one (as he will see by the date) shall expire ; 
but if that fatal accident were not to happen, I am 
not able to travel in my present condition. What I 
intend is, immediately to leave this place, and go 
with my Cousin for a nurse about five miles from 
London, on the other side, toward the sea, and if I 
recover, I will either pass this winter near Salisbury 
Plain, or in France ; and therefore I desire Mr 
Worrall may make this license run like the former 
[To Great Britain, or elsewhere, for the recovery 
of his health.] 

Neither my health, nor grief will permit me to 
say more ; your directions to Mr Lancelot at his 
bouse in New Bond Street, over against the Crown 
and' Cushion, will reach me. Farewell. 

This stroke was unexpected, and my fears last 
year were ten times greater. 



London, Sept % 1727. 

I HAD yours of the 19th of August, which I an- 
swered the 29th from Twickenham. I came to town 
on the last day of August, being impatient of stay* 
ing there longer, where so much company came to 
us while I was so giddy and deaf. I am now got to 
my cousin Lancelot's house, where I desire all let- 
ters may be directed to me ; I am still in the same 
condition, or rather worse, for I *walk like a drunken 
mauy and am deafer than ever you knew me. If I 
had any tolerable health, I would go this moment 
to Ireland ; yet I think I would not, considering the 
news I daily expect to hear from you. I have just 
received yours of August 24 ; I kept it an hour in 
my pocket with all the suspense of a man who ex- 
pected to hear the worst news that fortune could give 
him ; and at the same time was not able to hold up 
my head. These are the perquisites of living long : 
the last act of life is always a tragedy at best ; but it 
is a bitter aggravation to have one's best friend go 
hefore one. I desired in my last, that you would 
not enlarge upon that event ; but tell me the bare 
fact. 1 long knew that our dear friend had not the 
stamina vitoi; but my friendship could not ann me 
against this accident, although I foresaw it. I have 
'«aid enough in my last letter, which now I suppose * 
is with you. I know not whether it be an addition 
to my grief or not, that I am now extremely ill ; for 
it would have been a reproach to me to be in perfect 
health, when such a friend is desperate. I do pro- 
fess upon my salvation, that the distressed and des- 
perate condition of our friend, makes life so indif- 


ferent to me, who by course of nature have so little 
left, that I do not think it worth the time to stnig-' 
gle ; yet I should think, according to what hath 
been formerly, that I may happen to overcome this 
present ditorder ; and to what advantage ? Why, to 
see the loss of that person for whose sake only life 
was worth preserving. I brought both those fnends 
over, * that we might be happy together as long as 
God should please ; the knot is broken, and the re« 
maining person, you. know, has ill answered the 
end ; and the other, who Is now to-be lost^ is all that 
was valuable. You agreed with me, or you are a 
great hypocrite. What have I to do in the worid ? 
I never was in ^uch agonies as when 1 received your 
letter, and had it in my pocket. I am able to hold 
up my sorry head no longer. 


Twickenham, SepC 6, 1727. 
SlE, * 

I AM both obliged and alarmed by your letter. 
What you mention of a particular friend of the 
l)ean*s being upon the brink of another world, gives 
me great pain ; for it makes me, in tenderness to him, 
wish him with you, and at the same time 1 fear 
he is not in a condition to make the journey. Though 
*(to ease you as far as I can) his physician and friend 
Dr Arbuthnot assures me, he will soon be well. At 
present he is very deaf, and more uneasy than. I 


* Mn JohiuoD and Mrs Dingley.— H. 


)iopi^ ih^t complaint alone would have made him. 
I appriehend he has written to you in a melancholy 
way, which has put you into a greater fright, than 
(with God's will) we may have any reason for. He 
talks of returning to Ireland in three weeks, if he 
recovers sufficiently ; if not, he will stay here this 
winter. Upon pretence of some very unavoidable 
occasions he went to London four days since, where 
I see him as often as he will let me. I was extremer 
ly concerned at his opinidtreti in leaving me ; but 
he shall not get rid of the friend, though he may of 
his house. I have suggested to him the remedy you 
mention : and I will not leave him a day till I see 
him better. I wish you could see us in England 
without manifest inconvenience to yourself; though 
I heartily hope and believe that our friend will do well* 
I sincerely honour you for your warmth of afTec- 
tion, where it is so justly merited : and am, both for 
this sake and your own, with great esteem, Sir> your 
truly afTectionate and obedient servant, 

A. Pope. 

P. S. I have often desired the Dean to make known 
to you my sense of the good opinion you have 
expressed of me in your letters. I am pleased to 
have an opportunity of thanking you under my 
hand, and I desire you to continue it to one, who 
is no way ungrateful. 


September, 1727. 
I DID desire you to Write me a love-letter j but I 
never did desire you to talk of marrying me* I 

* 4 



would rather you and I were dumb, as well as deaf, 
for ever, than that should happen. I would take 
your giddiness, your headach, or any other com- 
plaint you have, to resemble you in one circnm- 
stance of life. So that I insist upon your thrmkiog 
yourself a very happy man, at least whenever you 
make a comparison between yourself and me. I 
likewise insist upon your taking no resolution to 
leave England till I see you ; which must be here, 
for the most disagreeable reason in the world, and 
the most shocking ; I dare not go to you. Beli^ra 
nobody, that talks to you of the queen, without yoa 
are sure the person likes both the queen and yon. 
I have been a slave twenty years, without ever re- 
ceiving a reason for any one thing I ever was obli- 
ged to do ; and I have now a mind to take the plea- 
sure, once in my life, of absolute power ; which I 
expect you to give me, in obeying all my orders^ 
without one question why I have given them. '' 


LondoD, Sept 18, 1797: 

I HAVE not writ to you this long time, nor wotild 
I now, if it were not necessary. By Dr Sheridan's 
frequent letters,! am every post expecting the death 
of a friend, with whose loss I shall have very little 
regard for the few years that nature may leave me. 
I desire to know where my two friends lodge. I gave 
a caution to Mrs Brent that it might not be in domo 
decanij quaniam hoc minime deceit uti manifestum est : 
habeo etUm mcUignos^ qui smistre hoc inter pretctbuntur^ 
n eveniet (quod Dew aver tat J ut illic moriatar. 1 am 


in such a condition of health, that I cannot possibly 
travel. Dr Sheridan, to whom I write this post, will 
be more particular, and spare my weak disordered 
head. Pray answer all calls of money in your power 
to Mrs Dingley, and desire her to ask it. I cannot* 
come back at the time of my license, I am afraid. 
Therefore two or three days before it expires, which 
will be the beginning of October (you will find by 
the date of the last), take out a new one for another 
half year ; and let the same clause be in (of leave 
to go to Great Britain, or elsewhere, for the recovery 
of his health), for very probably, if this unfortunate 
event should happen of the loss of our friend (and I 
have no probability or hopes to expect better ^ I will 
go to France, if my health will permit me, to for- 
get myself. * I leave my whole little affairs with 
you ; I hate to think of them. If Mr Deacon, or 
Alderman Pearson, come to pay rent, take it on ac- 
count, unless they bring you their last acquittance 
to direct you^ But Deacon owes me seventy-five 
pounds, and interest, upon his bond ; so that you 
are to take care of giving him any receipt in fuU of 
all accounts. I hope you and Mrs Worrall have 
your health. I can hold up m^ head no longer. I 
am sincerely yours, &c. 

You need not trouble yoursdf to write, till you 
have business ^ for it is uncertain where I shall be. 

* ScToD after the ^ate of this letter the Dean went to Irehuid ; 
and Mrs Johnson^ after langnishing about two months, died on 
the Mdi of Jannarj, 1737-8, in the 44th year of her age«— H. 




September, 1727. 


This cruel disorder of deafness, attended with 
giddiness, still confines me. I have been debating 
with myself, that having a home in Dublin not in- 
convenient, it would be prudent for me to return 
thither, while my sickness will allow me to travel. 
J am therefore setting out for Ireland ; and it is one 
comfort to me, that I am ridding you of a trouble- 
some companion. I am infinitely obliged to yoa 
for all your civilities, and shall retain the remem- 
brance of them during my life. 

I hope you will favour me so far, as to present my 
most humble duty to the queen, and to describe to 
her majesty my sorrow, that my disorder was of such 
a nature, as to make me incapable of attending her, 
as she was pleased to permit me. I shall pass the 
remainder of my life with the utmost gratitude for 
her majesty's favours.* 

* The Dean's opinion of this lady, and sense of her majesty*! 
faTours, are expressed werj differently in other places, and it is 
therefore to be presumed, they were changed by some cTent snb. 
sequent to this letter, though he was never afterwards in Eog. 
land. See the Terses on his own death, and the letters of Lady 
Betty Germain, dated Not. 7, 1 732; and Feb. 8, 17S^X— R. 
The erent which changed the Dean's sentiments as to Mrs How. 
ard, seem to have been the general discountenance shewif to the 
tories at the court of George II., but especialiy the disappoint- 
ment of his friend Gay ; and of some expectations which he him. 
adf entertained of being brought to finghund through her in. 



October 2, 1727. 

It is a perfect trouble to me to write to you, and 
your kind letter left for me at Mr Gay*s affected 
me so much, that it made me like a girl. I cannot 
tell what to say to you ; I only feel that I wish you 
well in every circumstance of life; that it is almost 
as good to be hated as to be loved, considering the 
pain it is to minds of any tender turn, to find them- 
selves so utterly impotent to do any good, or give 
any ease, to those who deserve most from us. I 
would very fain know, as soon as you recover your 
complaints, or any ps^rt of them. Would to Grod 
I could eas^ any of them, or had been able even to 
have alleviated any ! I found I was not, and truly it 
grieved me. I was sorry to find you could think 
yourself easier in any house than in mine, though 
at the same time I can allow for a tenderness in 
your way of thinking, even when it seemed to want 
that tenderness. I cannot explain my meaning, 
perhaps you ki^ow it : But the best way of con«» 
vincing you of my indulgence, will be, if I live, to 
visit you in Ireland, and act there as much in my 
own way as vou did here in yours. I will not leave 
your roof, if I am ill. To your bad health I fear 
there was added some disagreeable news from Ire- 
land which might occasion your so sudden depar- 
ture : * for, the last time I saw you, you assured me 

^ This letter alludes to Swift's abrupt departure from Twick. 
enham, which he imputed to indisposition, but which was cer- 
tainlv principally caused by his distressed state of mind concenu 


you would not leave us the whole winter, unless 
your health grew better, and I do not find it did so. 
1 never complied so unwillingly in my life with any 
friend as with you, in staying so entirely from you: 
nor could 1 have had the constancy to do it, if you 
had not promised that, before you went, we should 
meet, and you would send to us all to come. I 
have given your remembrances to those you men- 
tion in yours : we are quite sorry for you, I mean 
for ourselves. I hope, as you do, that we shall meet 
in a more durable and more satisfactory state ; but 
the less sure I am of that, the more I would indulge 
it in this. We are to believe, we shall have some- 
thing better than even a friend there, but certsunly 
here we have nothing so good. 

Adieu for this time ; may you find every friend 
you go to as pleased find happy, as every friend yea 
went from is sorry and troubled. 

Yours, &c. 


Dublin, October 13, 1737. 

I HAVE been long reasoning with myself upon the 
condition I am in, and in conclusion have thought 
it best to return to what fortune has made my home; 
I have there a large house, and servants and con- 
veniencies about me. I may be worse than I am. 

^ The f<i]lo^in^ seems to be an enlarged edition of the ^^ kiad 
letter*' left for Pope at Gay's, in -which the Dean apologiied for 
abruptly quitting the hospitable mansion of Twickenhamu 


and have nowhere to retire. I therefore thought 
it best to return to Ireland, rather than go to any 
distant place in England. Here is my maintenance, 
and here my convenience. If it pleases God to re- 
store me to my health, I shall readily make a third 
journey ; if not, we must part as all human crea- 
tures have parted. You are the best .and kindest 
friend in the world, and I know nobody alive or 
dead to whom T am so much obliged ; and if ever 
you made me angry, it was for your too much care 
about me. I have often wished that God Almighty 
would be so easy to the weakness of mankind, as to 
let old friends be acquainted in another state ; and if 
I were to write a Utopia for Heaven, that wouM be 
one of my schemes. This wildness you must allow 
for^ because I am giddy and deaf. 

I find it more convenient to be sick here, with- 
out the vexation of making my friends uneasy; yet 
my giddiness alone would not have done, if that un- 
sociable comfortless deafness had not quite tired me. 
And I believe T should have returned from the inn, 
if I had not feared it was only a short intermission, 
and the year was late, and my license expiring. 
Surely beside all other faults, I should be a very 
ill judge, to doubt your friendship and kindness. 
But it has pleased God that you are not in a state 
of health, to be mortified with the care .md sickness 
of. a friend. Two sick friends never did well toge- 
ther ; such an office is fitter for servants and hum-i 
ble companions, to whom it is wholly indifferent 
whether we give them trouble or not. The case 
would be quite otherwise if you were with me ; you 
could refuse to see anybody, and here is a large 
house where we need not hear each other if we were 
both sick. I have a race of orderly elderly people 
of both sexes at command, who are of no conse- 


quence^ and have gifts proper for attending ns; 
who can bawl when I am deaf, and tread softly 
when I am only giddy and woald deep. 

T had another reason for my haste hither, which 
was changing my agent, the old one having ter- 
ribly involved my little affairs ; to which, however, 
I am grown so indifferent, that I believe I shall 
lose two or three hundred pounds rather th^ 
plague myself with accompts : so that I am very 
well qualified to be a lord, and put into Peter 
Walter's hands. 

Pray God continue and increase Mr Congreve*i 
amendment, though he does not deserve it lil^ you, 
having been too lavish of that health which nature 
gave him. 

J hope my Whitehall landlord is nearer to a place 
than when I left him ; as the preacher said, ^' the 
** day of judgment was nearer than ever it had been 
« before.** 

Pray God send you health, dei saluietHj dei opes^ 
anitnam aquam ipse iibi parabis. * You see Horace 
wishes for money as well as health ; and I would 
hold a crown he kept a coach ; and I shall never be 
a friend to the cour^ till you do so too. 

Yours, &c. 


Dover Street, October 1^ 1737. 

Reverend Sib, 
I WAS very much concerned to hear you were so 
much out of order when I went to the north; 

* ** Let Jotre pwe bealUi, give riches, yoa ihaD find 
Ab iowwd treasarc in an eqaal 


and upon my return, which was but lately, I was 
in hopes to have found you here, and that you 
would not have gone to your deanery till the 
spring. I should be glad to hear that you are 
well, and have got rid of that troublesome distemper, 
your deafness. 

I have seen Pope but once, and that was but for 
a few minutes; he was very much out of order, 
but I hope it only proceeded from being two day8 
in town, and staying out a whole opera. He woidd 
not see the coronation, although he might have seen 
it with little trouble. 

I came last night well home, after attending and 
^paying my duty in my "rank at the coronation. I 
hope there will not be another till I can have the 
laudable excuse of old age not to attend ; which is 
no ill wish to their present majesties, since Notting- 
ham at fourscore could bear the fatigue very weU. 
I will not trouble you with an account of the cere- 
mony ; I do not doubt but you will have a full and 
true account from much better hands. 

I have been put in hopes that we shall see you 
again early in the Spring, which will be a very great 
pleasure to me. 

There is a gentleman that is now upon putting out 
a new edition of the Oxford Marmora : I should 
take it for a great favour if you would be so kind 
to lend me your copy of that book. I think there 
are some corrections : if you think fit to do this^ 
Mr Clayton, who is in Ireland, will take care to 
bring it safe to me, and I will with great care return 
it to you again. 

'I must not conclude this without making my wife's 
compliments to you. I am, with true respect, Sir^ 
your most humble servant, 



You forgot to send me the ballad. 
Mr Clayton will call upon you before he comes to 
England ; I have written to him to that purpose. 


Oct. 22, 1727. 

Though you went away from us so imexpectedly, 
and in so clandestine a manner, yet^ by several 
inquiries, we have informed ourselves of every 
thing that hath happened to 3K>u. 

To our great joy, you have told us, your deafness 
left you at the inn in Aldersgate Street: no doubt, 
your ears knew there was nothing worth hearing in 

Our advices from Chester tells us, that you met 
Captain Lawson; * the captain was a man of vera- 
city, and set sail at the time he told you. I really 
wished you had laid hold of that opportunity, for 
you had then been in Ireland the next day ; besides, 
as it is credibly reported, the captain had a bottle or 
two of excellent claret in his cabin. You would 
not then have had the plague of that little smoky 
room at Holyhead; f but considering it was there 

* Commander of the king's Dublin yacht. — H« 
i The Dean's ronte upon this, as upon other occasions, miglit 
be traced by his memoranda upon the oralis and windows of hii 
Inn. There is an inscription, Vol. XIV. p. 363, which, beioy 
dated 1726, was probably written in the course of his journey im 
London ; and while delayed at Holyhead, on his return^ he wrote 
the verses which are to be found on p. 361 of the same toIumm. 



you lost your giddiness, we have great reason to 
praise smoky rooms for the future, and prescribe 
them in like cases to our friends. The maid of the 
house writes us word, that, while you were there, 
you were busy for ten days together writing conti- 
nually ; and that, as Wat drew nearer and nearer to 
Ireland, he blundered more and more. By a scrap 
of paper left in this smoky room, it seemed as if the 
book you were writing was a most lamentable ac- 
count of your travels ; and really, had there been 
any wine in the house, the place would not have 
been so irksome. We were further told, that you 
set out, were driven back again by a storm, and lay 
in the ship all night. After the next setting sail, 
we were in great concern about you, because the 
weather grew very tempestuous ; when to my great 
joy and surprise, I received a letter from Carlingford 
in Ireland, which informed us, that, after many 
perib, you were safely landed there. Had the oysters 
been good, it would have been a comfortable re- 
freshment after your fatigue. We compassionated 
you in your travels through that country of desola- 
tion and poverty in your way to Dublin ; for it is 
a most dreadful circumstance, to have lazy dull 
liorses on a road where there are very bad or no inns. 
When you carry a sample of English apples next to 
Ireland, 1 beg you would get them either from 
Goodrich or Devonshire. Pray who was the cler- 
gyman that met you at some distance from Dublin? 
because we could not learn his name. These are all 
the hints we could get of your long and dangerous 
jpurney, every step of which we shared your anxie- 
ties and all that we have now left to comfort 

us, is to hear that you are in good health. 

But why should we tell you what you know al- 


ready ? The queen's * family is at last settled, and 
in the list I was appointed gentleman-usher to the 
Princess Louisa, the youngest princess; which, upon 
account that I am so far advanced in life, I have de- 
clined accepting ; f and I have endeavoured, in the 
best manner I could, to make my excuses by a let- 
ter to her majesty. So now all my expectations are 
vanished; and I have no prospect, but in depending 
wholly upon myself, and my own conduct. As I 
am used to disappointments^ I can bear them ; but 
as I can have no more hopes, I can no more be dis- 
appointed, so that I am in a blessed condition. You 
remember you were advising me to go into Newgate 
to finish my scenes the more correctly. I now 
think I shall, for I have no attendance to hinder me ; 
but my opera % is already finished. I leave the rest 
of this paper to Mr Pope. 

Gay is a free man, and I wrote him a long con- 
gratulatory letter upon it. Do you the same: it 
will mend him, and make him a better man than a 
court could do. Horace might keep his coach in 
Augustus's time, if he pleased ; but I will not in 
the time of our Augustus. My poem § (which it 
grieves me that I dare not send you a copy of, for 
fear of the Curlls and Dennises of Ireland, and still 

^ Queen Caroline, consort of King Greorge XL 
f The miscarriage of Gay's hopes of patronage at conrt, or 
latlier their mean and contemptuous termination in appointiag 
liim gentleman.usher to a child, opened the voices of all kis 
friends, not only against Walpole, but against the Qneen 
BArs Howard, from whose influence far different promotion 
been expected. 

X The Bq;gar'8 Openu ^ The Dnndad. . 


more for fear of the worst of traitors, our friends 
and admirers), my poem, I say, will show you what 
a distinguished age we lived in ? Your name is in it, 
with some others under a mark of such ignominy 
as you will not much grieve to wear in that company. 
Adieu, and God bless you, and give you health and 

Wheiher tkoa choose Cemntes' serioas air ; 
Or Uagh and shake in Rab'his* easy chair, 
Or la the graier gown instmct mankind, 
Or, rilent, let thy morals tell thy mind. 

These two verses are over and above what I have 
said of you in the poem. * Adieu. 


October SO, 1727. 

The first letter I writ after my landing was to 
Mr Gay, but it would have been wiser to direct 
it to Tonson or Lintot, to whom I believe his 
lodgings are better known than to the runners of 
the post-office. In that letter you will find what 
a quick change I made in seven days from London 
to the deanery, through many nations and languages 
unknown to the civilized world. And I have often 
reflected in how few hours, with a swift horse or a 
ftrong gale, a man may come among a people as 
unkpown to him as the antipodes. If I did not 

^ We see by this, with what judgment Pope corrected and 
efued.— Warburtoit. 


know you more by your conversation and kindness 
than by your letter, I might be base enough to stts- 
pect^ that, in point of friendship, you acted like some 
philosophers, who writ much better upon yirtae, 
than they practised iu In answer, I can only swear 
that you have taught me to dream, which I had. 
not done in twelve years further than by inexpres- 
sible nonsense ; but now I can every night distinctly 
see Twitenham, and the Grotto, and Dawley, and 
many other et ceteras, and it is but three nights 
since I beat Mrs Pope. I must needs confess, thiU 
the pleasure T take in thinking on you, is very much 
lessened by the pain I am in about your health : 
you pay dearly for the great talents God has given 
you; and for the consequences of them in the 
esteem and distinction you receive from mankind, 
unless you can provide a tolerable stock of health ; 
in which pursuit I cannot much commend your 
conduct, but rather entreat you would mend it by 
following the advice of my Lord Bolingbroke, and 
your other physicians. When you talked of cups 
and impressions, it came into my head to imitate 
you in quoting scripture, not to your advantage ; I 
mean what was said to David by one of his brothers: 
** I knew thy pride and the naughtiness of thy 
** heart ;" I remember when it grieved your soul to 
see me pay a penny more than my club at an inn, 
when you had maintained me three months at bed 
and board ; for which if I had dealt with you in 
the Smithfield way, it would have cost me a hun- 
dred pounds, for I live worse here upon more. Did 
you ever consider that I am for life almost twice as 
rich as you, and pay no rent, and drink French 
wine twice as cheap as you do port, and have neither 
coach, chair, nor mother ? As to the world, I think 
you ought to say to it with St Paul, if we have sawn 


unto you spiritual things^ is it a great thing if we 
shall reap your carnal things ? this is more proper 
still if you consider the French word spirituel, in 
which sense the world ought to pay you better than 
they do. If you made me a present of a thousand 
pounds, I would not allow myself to be in your 
debt ; and if I made you a present of two, I would 
not allow myself to be out of it. But I have not 
half your pride : witness what Mr Gay says in his 
letter, that I was censured for begging presents, 
though I limited them to ten shillings. I see no 
reason (at least my friendship and vanity see none), 
why you should not give me a visit, when you shall 
happen to be disengaged : I will send a person to 
Chester to take care of you, and you shall be used 
hy the best folks we have here, as well as civility 
and good nature can contrive ; I believe local mo- 
tion will be no iir physic, and 1 will have your 
coming inscribed on my tomb, and recorded in 
never-dying verse. 

I thank Mrs Pope for her prayers, but I know 
the mystery. A person of my acquaintance who 
used to correspond with the last great Duke of Tus- 
cany, showing one of the duke's letters to a friend^ 
and professing great sense of his highness's friend- 
ship, read this passage out of the letter, / would give 
one of my fingers to procure your real good. The 
person to whom this was read, and who knew the 
duke well, said, the meaning of real good^ was only 
that the other might turn a good catholic. Pray 
ask Mrs Pope whether this story is applicable to her 
and me ? I pray God bless her, for 1 am sure she is 
a good Christian, and (which is almost as rare) a good 
woman. Adieu. 



DabliD, Not. 27, 1757. 

I ENTIRELY approve your refusal .of that em« 
ployment, and your writing to the queen. I am 
perfectly confident you have a keen enemy in the 
ministry. * God forgive him, but not till he puts 
himself in a state to be forgiven. tJpon reasoning 
with myself, 1 should hope they are gqne too far to 
discard you ouite, and that they will give you some* 
thing ; which, although much less than they ought, 
will be (as far as it is worth) better circumstantiated: 
and since you already just live, a middling help will 
make you just tolerable. Your lateness in life (as 
you so soon call it) might be improper to begin the 
world with, but almost the eldest men may hope 
to see changes in a court. A minister is always se* 
venty : you are thirty years younger ; and consider, 
Cromwell himself did not begin to appear till he was 
older than you. I beg you will be thrifty, and learn 
to value a shilling, which Dr Birch said was a se- 
rious thing. Get a stronger fence about your 10001. 
and throw the inner fence into the heap, and be ad- 
vised by your Twickenham landlord and me about 
an annuity. You are the most refractory, honest, 
good-natured man, I ever have known; I could 
argue out this paper. — I am very glad your opera 
is finished, and hope your friends will join the 
readier to make it succeed, because your are ill used 
by others. 

* Sir Robert WalpoW« 


I have known courts these thirty -six years, and 
know they differ ; but in some things they are ex<- 
tremely constant : First, in the trite old maxim of 
a minister's never forgiving those he hath injured: 
Secondly, in the insincerity of those who would be 
thought the best friends: Thirdly, in the love of 
fietwning, cringing, and tale-bearing: Fourthly, in 
saorificing those whom we really wish well, to a 
point of interest, or intrigue: Fifthly, in keeping 
every thing worth taking, for those who can do ter* 
rice or disservice. * 

Now why does not Pope publish his Dulness? 
the rogues he marks will die of themselves in peace, 
and so will his friends, and so there will be neither 
punishment nor reward. Pray inquire bow my 
Lord St John does; there is no man's health in 
England I am more concerned about than his. I 
wonder whether you begin to taste the pleasure of 
independency ? or whether you do not sometimes 
leer upon the court, oculo retort 0/ Will you not 
think of an annuity, when you are two years older, 
and have doubled your purchase-money ? Have you 
dedicated your opera, and got the usual dedication 
fee of twenty guineas? How is the Doctor? does he 
not chide that you never called upon him for hints i 
' Is my Lord Bolingbroke, at the moment I am 
j[ writing, a planter, a philosopher, or a writer ? Is 
Mr Pulteney in expectation of a son, or my Lord 
Oxford of a new old manuscript? 

I bought your opera to day for sixpence, a cursed 
print. I find there is neither dedication nor pre- 

.* Let ewerj expectant of prGferment In church and state care* 
faily attend to, and remember the Jhe reflections of a man wetl 
TOfed in courts.— Dr Wastoa. 


face, both which wants I approve ; it is in the grand 

We are as full of it, pro modulo nashro, as London 
can be ; continually acting, and houses crammed, 
and the lord-lieutenant several times there laughing 
his heart out. I did not understand that the scene 
of Locket and Peachum's quarrel was an imitation 
of one between Brutus and Cassius, till I was told 
it. I wish Macheath, when he was going to be 
hanged, had imitated Alexander the Great when he 
was dying : * I would have had his fellow-rogues de* 
sire his commands about a successor, and he to an<* 
swer. Let it be the most worthy, &c. We hear a 
million of stories about the opera, of the applause 
at the song, " That was levelled at me,*' when two 
great minsters were in a box together, and all the 
world staring at them, t I am heartily glad your 
opera hath mended your purse, though perhaps il 
may spoil your court. 

Will you desire my Lord Bolingbroke, Mr Pul- 
teney, and Mr Pope, to command you to buy an 
annuity with two thousand pounds ? that you may 
laugh at courts, and bid ministers 

Ever preserve some spice of the alderman, and 
prepare against age and dulness, and sickness, and 

^ A hint thatmiglit have been worked up with mi}ch hnmoar; 
as was the quarrel of locket and Peachum. — Dr Waktok . But 
it weuld have wanted the zest of priTate scandal attached to the 
latter scene, as a parody on the quarrel between Sir Robert Wad- 
pole and a near relation, his* 

+ Some of these songs that contained the seferest satire against 
the court were written by Pope; particularly, 

'< Thro* all the enployaen** of life ;** 

and also, 

** Since laws were made,** &Crf— Dr Wartoh* 


coldness or death of friends. A whore has a re- 
source left, that she can turn bawd: but an old de- 
caved poet is a creature abandoned, and at mercy, 
when he can find none. Get me likewise Polly's 
mezzotinto. * Lord,- how the schoolboys at West- 
minster, and university lads adore you at this junc- 
ture ! Have you made as many men laugh, as mi- 
nisters can make weep ? 

I will excuse Sir the trouble of a letter : when 

ambassadors came from Troy to condole with Tibe- 
rius upon the death of his nephew, after two years, 
the emperor answered. That he likewise condoled 
with them for the untimely death of Hector. I al- 
ways loved and respected him very much, and do 
still as much as ever; and it is a return sufficient, if 
he pleases to accept the offers of my most humble 

The Beggar's Opera hath knocked down Gul- 
liver; I hope to see Pope's Dulness knock down the 
Beggar's Opera, but not till it hath fully done its job. 

* This was Miss Lavinia Fen ton. She afterward became 
Dnchess of Bolton. She was Tery accomplished ; was a most 
agreeable companion ; had much wit, and strong sense, and a 
JQSt taste in polite literature. Her person was agreeable, and 
well made : though she could not be called a beauty. I haye had 
the pleasure of being at table with her, when her conversation 
was much admired by the first characters of the age, particularly 
the old Lord Bathurst, and Lord Granville. Quin thought tho 
snccess of this opera so doubtful, that he would not undertake 
to play the part of Machcath, but gave it up to Walker. And in. 
deed it had like to have miscarried and been damned, till Polly 
sung ID a most tender and aiiecting manner, the words, 

^ For on the rope tliat haoirs my dear, 
" Depends poor Polly's life." 

This is .the air that is said irresistibly to have conquered the lover 
who afterward married her. — Dr Wauton. 



To expose vice, and make people langh with in- 
nocence, does more public service than all the mi- 
nisters of state from Adam. to Walpole, and so 



London, Nor. 30, 1727. 

I HAVE heard, dear Sir, with great pleasure, of 
your safe arrival ; and, which is more, of the reco- 
very of your health. I think it will be the best ex- 
pedient for me to take a journey. You will know 
who the enclosed comes from ; and I hope will va- 
lue mine for what it contains. I think every one of 
your friends have heard from you, except myself. 
Either you have not done me justice, or your friends 
have not done you ; for I have not heard from them 
of my name being mentioned in any of your letters. 
If my curiosity wanted only to be gratified, I do 
not stand in need of a letter from yourself, to inform 
me what you are doing ; for there are people about 
court, who can tell me every thing that you do or 
say ; so that you had best take care of your conduct. 
You see of what importance you are. However, 
all quarrels aside, I must ask you, if you have any 
interest (or do you think that I could have, or pro- 
cure 2Lny) with my lord-lieutenant, to advance a re- 
lation of mine, one Captain Innes, I think in colonel 
Wilson's regiment, and now in Limerick ? He is an 
exceeding worthy man, but has stuck long in a low 
post, for want of friends. Pray tell me which way 
I shall proceed in this matter. 

I was yesterday with all your friends at St James's. 


There is certainly a fatality upon poor Gay. As for 
hopes of preferment there by favour, he has laid it 
aside. He had made a pretty good bargain (that is* 
a Smithfield one) for a little place in the custom- 
house, which was to bring him in about a hundred 
a-year. It was done as a favour to an old man, and 
not at all to Gay. When every thing was con- 
cluded, the man repented, and said, he would not 
part with his place. I have begged Gay not to buy 
an annuity upon my life ; I am sure I should not 
live a week. I long to hear of the safe arrival of 
Dr Delany. Pray, give my humble service to 

As for news, it was writ from Spain, to me, from 
my brother in France, that the preliminaries were 
ratified, and yet the ministry know nothing of it. 
Nay, some of them told me, that the answer was 
rather surly. Lord Townshend is very ill ; but I 
think, by the description of his case, it is not mor- 
tal. I was with our friend at the back-stairs yester- 
day, and had the honour to be called in, and pret- 
tily chid for leaving off, &c. The first part of the 
discourse was about you, Mr Pope, Curll, and my- 
self. My family are well : they, and my brother 
in France, and one that is here, all give their service 
to you. If you had been so lucky as to have gone 
to Paris last summer, you would have had health, 
honour, and diversion, in abundance ; for I will pro- 
mise, you would have recovered of the spleen. I 
shall add no more, but my kindest wishes, and that 
I am, with the greatest affection and respect, youri, 



In London, Maiden Lane, at the White Pernke) 
CoTent Garden, Dec.. 14, 17^7. 

You will be surprised in receiving an English 
essay * from a French traveller. Pray, forgive an ad- 
mirer of you, who owes to your writings the lovie he 
bears to your language, which has betrayed him 
into the rash attempt of writing in English. 

Yon will see by the advertisement, that I have 
some designs upon you, and that I must mention 
you, for the honour of your country, and for the 
improvement of mine. Do not forbid me to grace 
my relation with your name. Let me indulge the 
satisfaction of talking of you, as posterity will do. 

In the mean time, can I make bold to entreat you 
to make some use of your interest in Ireland, about 
some subscriptions for the Henriade; which is al- 
most ready, and does not come out yet for want of 
a little help? The subscriptions will be but one 
guinea in hand. I am, with the highest esteem, 
and the utmost gratitude. Sir, your most humble 
and most obedient servant, 


* An i*ssay on the cifil wars of France, which he made the 
foundation of his Henriade, an heroic poem, since well known. 
Bi' had been imprisoned in the Bastile, in Paris, but being releaaed 
about the year 1726, he came to Knglaod, and 8olicilc*d ^ab8crip• 
tions for his poem. In about a >ear and a half he had made 
himself master of our language; a'ld, in 1727, when the latter 
was written, he published the essay here mentioned, with an 
essay on the epic poetry of the £uropean nations, from Homer 
to Milton..— H. 



I SENT the other day a cargo of French dulness 
to my lord-lieutenant. My Lady Bolingbroke lias 
taken upon herself to send you one copy of the 
Henriade. She is desirous to do that honour to my 
book; and I hope the merit of being presented to 
you by her hands will be a commenda ion to it. 
However, if she has not done it already, 1 desire 
you to take one of the cargo, which is now at my 
lord-lieutenant's. I wish you a good hearing ; if 
you have got it, you want nothing. I have not 
seen Mr Pope this winter; but I have seen the 
third volume of the Miscellanea; and the Tuore I 
read your works, the more I am ashamed of mine. 
I am, with respect, esteem, and gratitude. Sir, your 
most humble and most obedient servant, 



Deanery-House, Dec. 27, 1727. 

Dear Madam, 
Though I see you seldomer than is agreeable 
to my inclinations, yet you have no friend m the 
world, that is more concerned for any thing that 
can affect your mind, your health, or your fortune ; 
I have always had the highest esteem for your 
virtue, the greatest value for your conversation^ 


and the truest afTection for your person; and 
therefore cannot but heartily condole with you for 
the loss of so amiable, and (what is more) so fa- 
vourite a child. These are the necessary conse- 
quences of too strong attachments, by which we 
are grieving ourselves with the death of those we 
love, as we must one day grieve those, who love 
us, with the death of ourselves. For life is a 
tragedy, wherein we sit as spectators awhile, and 
then act our own part in it. Self-love, as it is the 
motive to all our actions, so it is the sole cause of ' 
our grief. The dear person you lament is by no 
means an object of pity, either in a moral or religious 
sense. Philosophy always taught men to despise 
life, as a most contemptible thing in itself; and 
religion regards it only as a preparation for a 
better, which you are taught to be certain thai 
so innocent a person is now in possession of; so 
that she is an immense gainer, and you and her 
friends the onlv losers. Now, under misfortunes 
of this kind, I know no consolation more effectual 
to a reasonable person, than to reflect rather upon 
what is left, than what is lost. She was neither an 
only child, nor an only daughter. You have three 
children left, one * of them of an age to be useful to 
his family, and the two others as promising as can 
be expected from their age ; so that according to the 
general dispensations of God Almighty, you have 
small reason to repine upon that article of life. And 
religion will tell you, that the true way to preserve 
them is, not to flx any of them too deep in your 
heart, which is a weakness that God seldom leaves 

* Charles Derenish, Esq. 


long unpunished : common observation showing us, 
that such favourite children are either spoiled by 
their parents* indulgence, or soon taken out of the 
world ; which last is, generally speaking, the lighter 
punishment of the two. 

God, in his wisdom, hath been pleased to load 
our declining years with many sufferings, with dis- 
eases, and decays of nature, with the death of many 
friends, and the ingratitude of more; sometimes 
with the loss or diminution of our fortunes, when 
our infirmities most need them ; often with contempt 
from the world, and always with neglect frdm it; 
with the death of our most hopeful or useful chil- 
dren; with a want of relish for all worldly enjoy- 
ments; with a general dislike of persons and things; 
and though all these are very natural effects of in- 
creasing years, yet they were intended by the author 
of our being to wean us gradually from our fondness 
of life, the nearer we approach toward the end of it. 
And this is the use you are to make in prudence, as 
well as in conscience, of all the afflictions you have 
hitherto undergone, as well as of those which in the 
course of nature and providence you have reason to 
expect. M^ God, who hath endowed you with so 
many virtues, add strength of mind and reliance 
upon his mercy in proportion to your present suf- 
ferings, as well as those he may think fit to try you 
with through the remainder of your life ! 

I fear my present ill disposition both of health and 
mind has made me but a sorry comforter : * how- 
ever, it will show that no circumstance of life can 

* It was written little more than a month before Mrs JohnsoD's 
death, an erent which was then almost daily expected. 


put you out of my mind, and that I am, with the 
truest respect, esteem, and friendship, 

dear Madam, 

your most obedient, 
and humble servant, 

JoN. Swift* 


Jan. 18, 1727-8. 

My Lord, 
I WAS informed, that your excellency having 
referred to the university here for some regulations 
of his majesty's benefaction for professors; they 
have, in their answer, insinuated as if they thought 
it best, that the several professorships should be 
limited to their fellows, and to be held only as they 
continue to be so. I need not inform your excel- 
lency, how contrary such a practice is to that of aU 
the universities in Europe. Your excellency well 
knows how many learned men, of the two last ages, 
have been invited by princes to be professors in some 
art or science for which they were renowned ; and 
that the like rule has been followed in Oxford and 
Cambridge. I hope your excellency will show no 
regard to so narrow and partial an opinion, which 
can only tend to mend fellowships and spoil pro- 
fessorships ; although I should be sorry that any 
fellow should be thought incapable on that account, 
when otherwise qualified. And I should be glad 
that any person, whose education has been in this 
university, should be preferred before another upon 
equal deservings. But that must be left to those 


who shall be your excellency's successors, who may 
not always be geat clerks: and I wish you could 
in some measure provide against having this bene- 
faction made a perquistite of humour or favour. 
Whoever is preferred to a bishoprick, or to such a 
preferment as shall hinder him from residing withitl 
a certain distance of this town, should be obliged to 
resign his professorship. 

As long as you are governor here, I shall always 
expect the liberty of telling you my thoughts ; 
and 1 hope you will consider them, until you 
find I grow impertinent, or have some bias of my 

If I had not been confined to my chamber by 
the continuance of my unconversable disorder, I 
would have exchanged your trouble of reading for 
that of hearing. I am, &c. 

JoN. Swift. 

I desire to present my most humble respects to my 
Lady Carteret. 

Your friend Walpole has lately done one of the 
cruellest actions that ever I knew, even in a 
minister of state, these thirty years past ; which 
if the queen hath not intelligence of, may my 
fight hand forget its cunning. * 

* This, perbaps, refers to Gay's disappointment 




Feb. • . . 1727.& 

Pope charges himself with this letter: he has 
been here two days^ he is now hurrying to London, 
he will hurry back to Twickenham in two days 
more, and before the end of the week he will be, 
for aught I know, at Dublin. In the mean time 
his Dulness grows and flourishes as if he was there 
already. It will indeed be a noble work : the many 
will stare at it, the few will smile, and all his pa- 
trons, from Bickerstaff to Gulliver, will rejoice to 
see themselves adorned in that immortal piece. 

I hear that you have had some return of your 
illness, which carried you so suddenly from us, if 
indeed it was your own illness which made you in 
such haste to be at Dublin. Dear Swift, take care 
of your health, I will give you a receipt for it, k la 
Montaigne, or, which is better, a la Bruyere. " Nou- 
risser bien votre corps; ne le fatiguer jamais:* 
laisser rouiller I'esprit, meuble inutil, voire outil 
dangereu^ : Laisser sonner vos cloches le matin pour 
eveiller les chanoines, et pour faire dorrbir le doyen 
d'un sommeil doux et profond, qui lui procure de 
beaux songes : lever vous tard, et aller k Teglise, 
pour vous faire payer & avoir bien dormi et bien 

As to myself (a person about whom I concern 

* The whole of this pleasant receipt is taken from the Latria 
of Boileau. — W^bton. 


myself very little) I must say a word or two out of 
complaisance to you. I am in my farm, and here 
I shoot strong and tenacious roots : I have caught 
hold of the earth (to use a gardener's phrase) and 
neither my enemies nor my friends will find it an 
easy matter to transplant me again. Adieu, let 
me hear from you, at least of you : I love you for a 
thoussmd things, for none more than for the just 
esteem and love which you have for all the sons of 

P. S. According to Lord Bolingbroke's account I 
shall be at Dublin in three days. I cannot help 
adding a word, to desire you to expect my soul 
there with you by that time; but as for the jade of 
a body that is tacked to it, I fear there will be no 
dragging it after. I assure you I have few friends 
here to detain me, and no powerful one at court 
absolutely to forbid my journey. I am told the 
gynocracy * are of opinion, that they want no better 
writers than Cibber, and the British Journalist ;t 
so that we may live at quiet, and apply ourselves to 
our more abstruse studies. The only courtiers I 
know, or have the honour to call my fpends, are 
John Gay and Mr Bowry ; the former is at present 
so employed in the elevated airs of his opera, and 
the latter in the exaltation of his high dignity 
(that of her majesty's waterman), that I can scarce 
obtain a categorical answer from either to any thing 

. * The petticoat gOTernment; perhaps alluding to Qaeea 
Caroline and Mrs Howard. 

f William Arnall, bred an attorney. It appears from the Re- 
port of the Secret Committee in the year 174^, for inquiring into 
the conduct of Sir Hobert Walpole, that Amall receiyed for Free 
Britons, and other writings, in the space of four years, not less 
than 10,9971. 6s. 8d. out of the treasury.— WAEBaBtoir. 


I say to them. But the opera * succeeds extremely, 
to yours and my extreme satisfaction, of which he 
promises this post to give you a full accoujit. I 
have been in a worse condition of health than ever, 
and think my immortality is very near out of my 
enjoyment: so it must be in you, a»id in posterity, 
to make me what amends you c^n for clvin^ youag. 
Adieu. While I am, I am yours. Pray love me^ 
and take care of yourself. 


Whitehall, Feb. 15, 1727-8. 

Dear Sir, 
I HAVE deferred writing to you from time to time, 
till I could give you an account of the Beggar's 
Opera. It is acted at the playhouse in Lincoln's 
Inn Fields with such success, that the playhouse has 
been crowded every night. To-night is the fifteenth 
time of acting, and it is thought it will run a fort- 
night longer. I have ordered Motte f to send the 
play to you the first opportunity. I made no in- 
terest either for approbation <>r money: nor has 
anybody been pressed to take ti( kets for my benefit: 
notwiti)standing which, I thit k i shall make an 
addition to my fortune of between six and ^even 
hundred pounds. 1 know this account will give 
you pleasure, as I have pushed through this pre- 
carious afiair without servility or flattery. 

* The Beggar's Open. 

f BeDJamin Motte, the bookseller— B. 


As to any favours from ^reat men, I am in the 
same state you left me ; but I am a i;reat deal hap- 
pier, as I have expectations. The Duchess of 
Queensberry has siqjnalized her friendship to me 
upon this occasion in such a conspicuous manner, 
that I hope (for her sake) you will take care to put 
your fork to all its proper uses, and suffer nobody 
for the future to put their knives in their mouths.* 
Ix)rd Cobham says, that 1 should have printed it in 
Italian over against the Ens^lish, that the ladies 
might "have understood what they read. The out- 
landish (as they now call it) opera has been so thin 
of late, that some have called that the Beggar's Opera; 
and if the run continues, I fear I shall have remon- 
strances drawn up against me by the royal academy 
of music. As none of us have heard from you of 
late, every one of us are in concern about your 
health : 1 beg we may hear from you soon. By 
my constant attendance on this affair I have almost 
worried myself into an ill state of health ; but I in- 
tend, in five or six days to go to our country seat at 
Twickenham for a little air. Mr Pope is very sel- 
dom in town. Mrs Howard frequently asks after 
you, and desires her compliments to you. Mr 
George Arbuthnot, the doctor's brother, is married 
to Mrs Peggy Robinson. 

I would write more, but as to-night is for my 
benefit, I am in a hurry to go out about business. 

I am, dear Sir, 

Your most affectionate and obedient servant, 

J. Gay. 

♦ This.allnde8 to sonic» jest between the Dacbess and Swiff, 
about.bis using his knife at table, when a fork i^ould ha?e been 
inoTe appropriate. It is again hinted at in Gay's letter of Otk 
Not. 1729. 





DabliD, Feb. 29^ 1797A 

Dear Patty, 
I AM told you hare a mind to receive a letter fnm 
me, which is a very undecent declaration in a yoang 
lady, and almost a confession that you have a mind 
to write to me ; for as to the fancy of looking os 
me as a man sans consequence, it is what I will 
never understand. I am told likewise you grow 
every day younger, and more a fool, which is <U« 
rectly contrary to me, who grow wiser and older, 
and at this rate we shall never agree. I long lo 
see you a London lady, where you are forced to 
wear whole clothes, and visit in a chair, for which 
you must starve next summer at Petersham, with s 
mantua out at the sides ; and spunge once a-week 
at our house, without ever inviting us in a whole 
season to a cow-heel at home. I wish you would 
bring Mr Pope over with you when you come; but 
we will leave Mr Gay to his Beggars and his Operas 
till he is able to pay his club. How will you pass 
this summer for want of a squire to Ham-commoa 
and Walpole's Lodge ; for as to Richmond Lodge 
and Marble-hill, they are abandoned as much as 
Sir Spencer Compton: and Mr Schabe's coach, 
that used to give you so many a set-down, is wheeled, 
off to St James's. You must be forced to get a 
horse, and gallop with Mrs Jansen and Miss Bedier. 
Your greatest happiness is, that you are out of the 

♦ The direction is simplj, " To Pitty Bloant."— N. 



chiding of Mrs Howard and the Dean ; but I sup- 
pose Mr Pope is so just as to pay our an*ears» and 
that you edify as much by him as by us, unless 
you are so happy that he now looks upon you as 
reprobate and a cast-away, of which I think he hath 
given me some hints. However, 1 would advise 
you to pass this summer at Kensington, where you 
will be near the court, and out of his jurisdiction ; 
where you will be teased with no lectures of gravity 
and morality, and where you will have no other 
trouble than to get into the mercer*s books, and 
take up a hundred pounds of your principal for 
quadrille. Monstrous, indeed, that a fine lady, in 
the prime of life and gaiety, must take up with an 
antiquated Dean, an old gentlewoman of fourscore, 
and a sickly poet. £ will stand by my dear Patty 
against the world, if Teresa beats you for your good, 
and I will buy her a fine whip for the purpose. 
Tell me, have you been confined to your lodging 
this winter for want of chair-hire ? [Do you know 
that this unlucky Dr Delany came last night to 
the deanery, and being denied, without my know- 
ledge, is gone to England this morning, and so I 
must send this by the post. I bought your opera 
to-day for sixpence, so small printed that it will 
spoil my eyes. I ordered you to send me your 
edition, but now you may keep it till you get an 
opportunity.] Patty, I will tell you a blunder : I 
am writing to Mr Gay, and had almost finished 
the letter; but by mistake I took up this instead 
of it, and so the six lines in a hook are all to him, 
and therefore you must read them to him, for I will 
not be at the trouble to write them over again. 
My greatest concern in the matter is, that I am 
afraid I continue in love with you, which is hard 
after near six months' absence. I hope you have 

• *. 


» • 



done with your rash and other little disorders, and 
that I shall see you a fine young, nealthy, plump 
lady, and if Mr Pope chides you,* threaten , hiin. 
that you will turn heretic. Adieu, dear,Pattj^ 
and believe me to be one of .your truest friendt 
"and humblest servants; and that, ^ince I can' 
never Jive in England, my greatest happinev * 
would be to have you and Mr Pope condemned, 
during my life, to live in Ireland, he at the deanc^, 
and you, for reputation sake, just at next door, 
and 'I will give you eight dinners a-week, and a , 
whole half dozen of pint bottles of good Frenct' 
wine at your lodgiijgs, a thing you could never , 
expect to arrive at, and every year a suit of fourteen- ' 
penny stuff, that should not be worn out at jthc • 
right side; and a chair costs but six-pence a job; 
and you shall have catholicity as much as you 
please, and the catholic Dean of St Patrick's,- as 
old again as I, for your confessor. Adieu again, 
dear Patty. 

Jon.- Swift. 

r^ • 


March 50, 1727-8. , 

Dear Sir}** 
I AM extremely sorry that your disorder lis-^fe-*- 
turned: but as you have a mediciae which* has 
twiced removed it; I hope by this •time you haye 
again found the good effects of. iL \ have* seen 
Dr Delany at my lodgipgs j but, as I have been' ^ 
for a few days with Mr Pulteney at. Cashiob^rry, I^ 
have not yet returned his vfeit. I went Hyith^ him 
to wait upon Lord Bathurst ancE»Lord Bolingbr^ke; 

'^ • : •' 


* v' * ^ ' • 

^ bo^ oF whoitt desire me-^lp make yoil their com- 
pliments. '^iJstiy Bolis«gbroke was very' much dut 

* Qf or^er;*aii(L Mnth mylofid/is npl^ at Daiwtey** . 
^^^be^Mcpects^fiy^ttet froih^you. * Mrs Howard would 

^gladl^.have the receipt yoU have ' found ^o much 

^ benefit hylf she is*happfer than I K^ve "Seen her 

.^^efer ^since^^i^l^ft us, ^ for she is free as to h^r 

conjugal affairs by abides of agreement.* The * 

Beggar's. Opera has been acted how thirty-^x times, 

a||^d( was af full the^ast night €is t(ie fir^t; <ind^as 

* y^^'t'^re is not the least probability of *a thiij au- i^ 
^ '^ience :%though the?e is a discourse about tlie town, 

thA the directors of the royal fcademy of mU^ 

••^sigrf 'lb solicit against its^ 4being phiyed on the 

^ suuandish op^ra days, as it is now called. ' On. the 

• benefit day oif<nie*of the actresses Ig^t vjreeR, one of 
". the players falking sick, they were obliged to give out 

another play, dFdismis; the audience. A play was 
given tout, but -^he ^ audience called ou^ for the 
jBeggar^s Opera; and they weiie forced to play it, 
^ or tbe eucAeqcehvould not have staid. • .• 

• "* I havd*got by all (his Access, bel^veen seven and * 
• *^ght{ hundred pound^;*^and Rich (deducting the^ * 

"^jiiojfi charge <^ ^e hoifte!^ 'has cleared already 

near f9ur thpusanch pounds. I In about a month I 

7am ^in2 to the BfetH witli tlvi Buchess of Marl- 

borbugti and Mr Coiigrcv^ ; f#r, 1 bavp no 5xpec- 

^ iati6ns*ofTecfeiving*2Ri3fTavougf froiji the court. The 

- '^-:^:S^ ,-, ;j-^-.t ? 

% * fler^iiaaband^lustcred Ad bulliedfabdut her cotkicction 

• witktAe kiDfL unin ^ moulfa^iras stopjied with a ^nsion ; bat 

^ \A befjgn| he had made soii)p spantlalou^ and yiolent scenes, de. 

^ tailedin Wafpole's Reminisceiu^s. See p. 2f5. 

f nie nyDUkiK^rn bon -mpt expressed both their good fortune : 

^Theippei^ vas said to ^Te made Gay rich^ and Rich gay. 

^OL. XVII. ' ♦ ^ » 

• « 




' ♦' • *• '4* 

f • ^ ^ • 


Duchess of Queensberry is in vWiltehire, where ^ 
she has had th^ small-pox ih' so fi^vAimble a way^ 
' tha£ she had not above seven or eighty on 'her face:: 
she is now perfectly recovered. Theiie is a mezzo-** 

high vogue 

* whether her fame does not surpass that of the opera 
itself, i would not have talked so much upon this 
subject, or upon ai>y thing thaf regards tnyself, bpt 

^ to y#u : , but as I know you interest yourself so sin-^ ' 
cjprely in every thing that concerns me, 1 believe • 
you would have blamed me if I hs^ said le^s. 

Your singer owes'T)r Arbuthnot some nlonejr,' I 4 
have forgot the sum; I think it is two guii^pis^ ,, 
thg doctor desired me to. let you know it. , I Aw 
hiin last night with Mr Lewis at Sir William Wynd- 
ham*s, who, if he had not the gout, would h%ve . 
answered your letter you sent him a.year aiM a hsJf. 
ago. He said this to me a week since, but he is 
now pretty well again, and so may forget tp vrrite;' 
for which reason I ought to do him justice, and teu*, 
you, that Illiink him a sincere well-wisher Df youi;|; ' 
1 have not seen Mr Pope lately, but have he^rd t^ * 
both he and Mrs Pope f are very well. F inteQ4 
to se§ him at Twickenham on Sunday next. I have . 
not drunk out the Guthef idge cider yet ;Jbut 1 ha^ 
not IP much s^^a siagle piift of port in my 'cellar. * 
•I haye> bought two pair of "sheets against yourx^pft-^, 
ing to town,, so ihat we peed not send aqy ai^^'lo 
Jerva^ upon that^ccount^ F reali)^miss^ou every 
day ; and I would be content that^you «houl(^ hate 

* Miss FentoD.— II. t Mr^ope's motbeH— J9. « >. 



^ # 

.' _ • . . 

• r 

^ * ^ Bhil'raLARY CORlhsPONDtf NCE. ^11 

a whole window to y6arself, and half another, to 
h^ve you lEtg^f?. .^I^tp,- dear Sir, « 

youiptriott aflfedlionately. 

You have half^ a . year's interest due at I^ady-day, 
and now it is March the 20th, 1747-8. - f 


* . '* March 23, 1727-8. 

. I SEND you a very odd thing, a 'paper printed in 
, Boston, ^n New Enj^land, wherein you will find a 

4^eal person,', a member of their parliajrient, of the 
; «ame of Jonathan Gulliver. If the fame of that 
^tpiv^ller has ti^avielled thither, it has travelled very 
.^Iqy^ck, to ij^ve folkg christened already, |^y the name 
# ^the sufiposed author. ' But if you object, that no 

tghild^so Jatdy jchristened' Could be arrived at years- 
j|of ftiatmrity M be elected into parliahi^t, I reply 

la|^tbat th^e; two n^ihes should be united. 
^ *^J^fi; pay*s opera nas been jtcted near fo^^y days^ 
^;MlniIlfi^ andii^ill oeftainly contiq^ue the whole sea« 
Jfon^'' Sb he h^ mSre tRan .a* fence aboyt his 

thcMisidd pounds >r* he wJH soon be » thinking of a 


' *'' ^ Btfqre Mr Gray had fenced his thousand pounds, he had a 
fcosnltaddn with his friends about the disposal of it. Mr [^wis 
jg4j'ueA'hiA^to intmst it in th# funds, and live upon the inte- 
rest; Dr Arbttthnot, to intrust it to Proridence, and lire upoQ 




fence about Jitt tWo thousaiMk^ Shall H^ on^ of 41^ 
live as w^ woul^ wish eaclr ^hv ^Itf^^ Shall ^ 
have no annuity, you i!b fcttlettftli( on tj^rs.Mcfcey and , 
I \io prospeai flf getting tO|y^a on't|)e jp^her ? Tlik 

. world is q[ia3de ^c Caesa|^-^*-as Catp 9aia^Yor-'a|i[ibh'. < 
tiousl fiSise, or flattering people to domineer in : nay ',■ 
they woidd iiflfjt,'^ jMeir |gpc^ willj leave \x$ our, * 

.. very b§bks, thoughts, o» w'ords, in jutet. . I despise 
the worfd-'yet, I assure' ^ou, m^re.than either Ga^ ' 
or you, and. ttfe court mofa^tban sA\ thd rest of the 
worlcr,** As for those scribblers' for whom you ap* 

* prehend I wT)\yd euppr^s^y Bulneis (v^bych. by. " 
Jjie way, for the* future you. are to call by ^more, 
^ pon^pdus name, fhe, Dunctady) htS^ much that Qcyi 
of hornpeis are my regard wiii easily anpear to you , 
when you.rf^ui the Treatise of t^e Batnos. * .'* 

At all adventures, yt)urs jtnd niy qame^hadl*8taiidi| ' 
linked as friends to posteritx^boUi iii^v;p»se and prosf,^ 
and (as T/dly .calls it) in cpns^udine^tudiBrt/ifl^. 
Would to Gq^ our person^Xioula but as w%U an4 4V ** 

" surely be inseparable ! jPffnd my otl\pr ties^drd(>pmg 
from me j^sohie i«^rn off, 'some-tom\)ffJiJOiers^rt-^^ 
la^ung daily'-^ wfy^ greatesf,* both' by ^^iy^ .SS^^'w 
ti!&e, and HuAaniiy, time iS shdblngeveiry itfdhient,*' 
and it now hapgs t)q| by^a ^thUead !- Tan^^any^ 
years the older for Ivvmg sp much wit)\ <^e so oUL^ 

'much ^ip mdre n^hJess. (or haying ^een ^*lo|i^ 
helped and tendeiga by'her ; uwch Ihe nipare ocA^^ 
siderate and tender,, for a daiSr ccmimence fVith^^diP' ', 

^» ^^ " • • ' 

the principal ; and Mr Popo^was for p,urcbying an liipdltj^d^' 
liffc. In this uncertainty he cooid t>nly say^^v^ith the old ^pan in 
Terence: • * V • • * 

fecistis probe : 

Incertior sam malto, qnam jlodam.** ' WijtBCSToai * J» . 

♦ His mother* • ' ' ^ ^ 

« ' 


t. » 

'* • - •■ ^- •■* » 

^ . .»• V '"^-"^ • » • ' • V .1^; ,. 

» S n* 

\ wno*requireJiiie justljr ta be both to •erA an^J con- 
sequently theninore.mdancholy andthoughtfulf and 
the le$s i^t for ot^^ft«, who ^ant only in ,a compa- 
nion or a frien^ to Ix^mused or entertained. My 
i^nslitutimi too/has hacf ^ts ^hare<of«tlecajr as well 
' as my spirits, and J am a^'much imAie tlecline at 
^forty^asryoilrat sixty^ ^ believe* S^fc sjiouffl be fit to 
live tcfg^her I^Mij^I ^et a little more (lealth, which 
might make mtenofjquite* insupportable.^ 'Your deaf- 
ness ^ould %gr^e wi^ miy ^ulhess ^ yoV^ wpuld not 
want me to speak when you could not hear. But 

yott snouia lose your^more i 

quaintapce so utterly, as to turn yoiir thwghts to 

such a brokeh redid as I am,^ho coU^so ilKsup- 

. -rply.your wants. I am extremely troubled at the 

\ returns oj your deafness ; *ypTi cai\npt be too piarti- 

-^ ?icpHar in the ^^coiints pi y o«r health iQ^ne ; evefy 

« tkingyou do ^r say in^i^his kind oPblig^s me, nay 

4eligi^ jnte, to* sea the justice yoy do Me inthipk- 

jling* m« ^cbnfc^rned in ail your ^ ^df^erns { so that 

^ thojigh th^^pfeasantest iKing yorf can tell mh })e that 

you ai*e better or ejKier ; next t(ythaf:1t pleases me 

* that yeu make me Ae person*yQu }voul^ Complain 

^^•. Aa^O\e obtaimng th^^lovept valualble m^ is the 

next felicity 
iph I cannot 
ou was one pfitrt of giy design in falling, 
flpon th^^se^thbrs, whos^incapaoity is not greater 
.tljan^u^r insincettty^aiidj)f whom I have always 
I /oqn^ (if I may quote myself) 

^. TliaLeach bad author is as bad friend. * . * i 

f^This^foeia v«^ll rid to^ pf TJjosg jnsects. • 

, KappiesiFenad know of this life, 89 thenexl 
.*Js Jo get rid^pf fo^lff a#d scoundrels ^*wliiph ] 
.but OW01 {9 you was one p^Crt o£ i^y design ii 

. *_ 

214 B PISTOL Aft Y GOBBSffPOKDBircll. a ^ ' 

/ . - 
Cedite^dtomani ScriptOfcT, cedite,^GAii ; . ' * 

^ JVeicrb ^iiti/inajns nascitnr.lliade.* ^ , ^ 

I mean than my Iliad ; and I call it Negcio qmd^ < 
which is a d^ree of mo^ef ty ; but however if h 
^lence t\iese 'fellows, t it mnst be something gfcater. 
than anyj[li|i3*in Christendom. . A^ieii. 


May?, 172& 
Sir, / • . 

I AM ve?jr much pleased with your letter, but I 
should *'fca^ thougtit myself n}uch -more obliged, 
had you Seen less sincere, and not told me, I . did 
not owe the favour entirely to your inclination^ • 
but to an informatioil that I had a mifid to hear 
from you: an^ I mist ru^*" you think even that al 
much as it'deserve. If so, you really jure not de- 
cefrving of my. repeated inquiries after .you, *and injr 
constant good wishes and dbncern for your welfare;^ 
which merits son^ remembrance without the helpi 
of another* I carinot*say I haye a great inclination . 
to write to* you) for J ^ave j>p^g|{eat vanity that way^ 
at least not enough to support" me'above the fear a , 
writing ill : ^but I* would fSin have ydu kfiow how* « 
trulv well I wifih you. ' * • • 

I am sorry to bear no good account of yow 
health : mine has'been, sifice Christmes (al whicb . 

* " Ye Greek and Rumln aathon, yield tbe priK, 

See somethii^ greater than aD Uiad nse.*^— {§• ^ 

f It did in a little time eftectnally silence thenu^WAWa- 

TDK. • . 4 ' 

• . ' f 

f • 


M ^ • ^^ ■ 

ime I had«iny ^ver and rash) -neither well nor ill 
mough to beTaken notice of: buWifhin (hese thr^e 
veeks I hare been sick in form, and kept my bed 
pr a week, and my chamber to this day/ ^ 
' This confinement, t<5gether with the momrning,* 
las' enabled me to^be Very, easy in my chaise hire : 
br a dyed blaak gown, and«^a scoured white one, 
lave dotie my business very well ; and they ara 
low y\sX nt forvPetersham, where we talk of, going 
'n threer weeks 5* and I am not without hopes I shall . 
tiave the same "sciuire t*I Iwui last year. I am very 
lyiwilling^to change ; and" moreover I Degin to fear 
l^ave no great prospect of getting any new dang- 
lers ; and therefore, in order to make d tolei'abte fi- . 
g;iire, I shall endeavour to behave myself mighty 
well, that I may keep my old ones. " . 
^^s a proof thaCt I continue to be well received a* 
cpurt^ I will tell you wh/3re the roj^al family design ^ 
to^pass (heir suiAm^r: two px^nths at Ric^mon^ 
Lodge, the same tin^e at Hamptofi* ()oturt, and six « 
weeks at winder. ' Mrs Howard is w§fl,,'and hap- 
l^er than ever you sa^ her ; for her whole affair 
with her husband is ended tp^hef satisfaction. % 
' CUyArbuthnot I am ^ery^ angry with;, he ne- ♦ 
glectsr me for th9se he thinks^finar iadies. Mr Gay's 
lame^coi^tii^e^, buV«hi$ riches are fn a faiV way of 
fliminishing ;*^e is ^one to the Bath : I wish jrou 

* For the death of Killg George the First* ^ 

+ Dr Swift *. ♦ ^ ^ ^ ' * " 

\ Thid shanvStul infrigBe if iftinirtelj detailed b7'l^or4 Orford, 
in; his Reminiscences \ • and the Wfsat alia^ to in this letter 
is, ithat dtnring Uie sMmuer a negotiation.- was commenced with 
i^ obstreperous husband, and he sold his own noisy honour, 
and the possession of liis wifey for % pension'of twelre hundred 

•• • . / 


316 ' AP1ST01A41Y COARESPf t^DBNCK* . *'^« * jl^ .^ f 

were ordered th^re^for I believe tka^^pld carry 
ftV*Pop^»*wh6 id^.Sways inclined to do more for* *» 
his J^-iends Jthan,hi«nself. , He is much 6ut oC of8«c,.^ ' ^ 
and is j|pld nothing is so likejjr tosdo him good;" *i^ , 

* ♦ My ilhiess has prevented ihy^writiig to ^pu sopn^ • 

^ er-, ^ If I was a favourite at court,*I would sbon con-> ^ ■ 
vince ypu tha^I am Very sincerely youi; faitKfiiL. J 

* /riend aild very humble secvantj^ "^ * % •in 

' -^ * M. B: . 1 


: . ^ < TO MR POPE. * .. ^ , 

'':•■../ DifbIin,M.7l0^17»gv^ ' 


. land" news 


with great pleasure shown. the ^New E^^^ 4 
paper^ith the t^o names Jonathan Gul-. ^ < 


who had a cause tt>ere, and losr itl^n^his ill reputa-*/" 
tC 'ticya of being a liar. These arenioi the.oilly^obs^- * f 

vatioins I have m*Sde upon odd Strang^ acciderits'm"' "* 

% trifles, whicR in thincs of great imporlanceOY'^ul*** 3 

have been matter* for> historians. ^Mr Gqy's op^fa^^* 

• has be*i a(*t^ here twenty 'tjjpes, arid^j v Iprd-rlieui'^* - 

tenant tells me it rs ver;f w#Il?perftfrined ; lie has^'' ■ 

seen ft pFten, and ap\)rove&.ii much. \ ^^^ ^ ' *^ i 

You give a most melancholy aQp6unt*8f yours^f, * J 

* William Tortf^tfe, Esq. afterward aLbafoit of t)\jB excbe.; *■ 


assigned tor the Svitness*. make the coincidence qMostr .- 

. ■€ 

■*:■/*• "i 

. '^ftid whii?b'I dbijh)t^>p(S3ve^ 4 reeJcojf^dt'qi man < 
• .fj^jeet ^jk^^s. tiv^yodHy inliruii\i^ shdiiicL ft^y 
•■JoitSsionally [Qnwf&e'^Ytth grt-at ijpuple,, i««wijii-, ' 
'»llanHing all iheir jiood •qualitif4>, easinesses, and' 
» StindLHJssfts.'^TUere^ Jmoibc-r race which 1 prefet* ' 
>»b;efore« tItetn,^iS i^e\' acid tijBlto'n for constiint diet ' 

Jfcefot* i>5iirid;_«es;, 1 mean -a middle kindjiotli for 
If uflrierslandui^'«ii'(J loriitne, wlio are pert'i'ctlff easy^- 
',DWer im|iertiiionf, (■■iiii|ilyiii£; ii\ every thing, ready 
, Wfio^ hundredHilili/ oltiteslhat y<ju anij' I rft'ay of- 
'J^B want, wiho-^ineand sit Vi^^ me five'tiines for 
*.,'Wfe'thafI g04>»lheni;.and_'ivlioni tcanteHVi^- 
ji|^|lt ofleiic* kiat ,1.3m oih^ise engaged al present, 
T^his you, cannol^ f xprc:? Trijm ^iiy- if,*-fliose, that 

.either you, or I,- pT both rfre a»qiiai«ljed wit^on your 

'.side; who ar^^fiiy fitMur (fiif Ivtalthy i/easoiis, and 
J fcave mutili busiufss of \\\viv own. God forbid I* 

j^honrtL "conde^li you (8 IV^injfi fi^uan^uUm 0/J» . 
V and for Engtgnd T desphirt '^TirQndeeir at;hariJe «rf ^ 

aflfairs would'cqpie tfijS.late dt m'^ S'ea$6il,of We; and . 
f might 'prpbabj^ proAce'ndfttifie otiJ*giy behalf. 
■*^du*hftve kept Mi\ Pop* looge|,^i«J rafe had.|^r 

"Care^yoria whit from 'j^tt^ you ^buld expect ;^ 
^ n^ but J^er loss will be \vy sensilje whenever, it * 

tshall h^pp^. .-.I say one.4^ing; tha^ kMh sumniers 
^.•acd^wint^Fs arfi jWilder nenit ,tbaa' %^V ^Ijp^ .all* 
^.tWngjforiTfe-i>,gtnerfl'better for a njjatUing, for- .•' 
r ^une-: yqp.'jytll JiavV sili^sqlute cw^tn^^d^ Qf ^ur . ' 
'•.4ft™P*ny>^lhw(uitever o'bsequioiistiess or freedom 
I ycni ri^ay expect or^l»w. ^ 1 h^ve ati*eltjerl\^tuuse^ 
itpeper,*4v'ho. lias beert^my Wilpoi^^^afa'Ove fl^'^y 
' Jea^s, ■whenever'fHvei-ia'rtiis'kiii^'max, I^ave 
' We .command pf.cpe'or two villas'^OTthis-totvn :' 
'-■7*F hav'^& w|j'ip apar^eiil in thi^Jieuse, ^nd two' 
g^eos fagi* amusement." I hat^, Sii^ enqfrgli, vet- 

* not half. 'E^epif absence frbiCa fFi^Sds, J 66niess 

,. /,. -^^ .; s . V "■;-.-■> '-*. ;*'• '■ ■• • /. : ' 

Ireely Uf^^tha^e tittdiscoMentfit^tving Were, be-"*. 
side-Whsd: arises frobi a'Gill^ spirit or liberty, 'which ' 
■ as'it Qieither tcAirs my drink, nor hurts tny meil, ' ' 
nor spo'ils' my sfomach, farther than in itnaginatioD, ' 
^■I rtsoire to tbtow it off. ,. ." ' 

Yon talk of this Duneiad, hi7t,I aiv. impatietat to 
have It voiare per ora — tfi^re is now a vadaocy fof *\ 
lame ; tBe Beggar's' O^era has done its task, duet- f 
dat uti cfinviva tafur- Adieu. • Jon. Swipt. - J 


, „ ■ MnylO, i73aC * 

My U)ed, ■*.-'•' , ' ' 

I TOLD yoHr.eXcell^cy, that you ^er« to run on 

-my errands. My Lord Bhrlingtofi has a fefy fine 
cionument of his ancestor, the Earl of Corke, in my • 
cathedral, which your excellency ^as seen. I and . 
the chapter have writiEen to him in a body, to have n 
if repaired^ and Fin person haie desired h« frould * 

I do it. And Udeeired likewise, that he would settle ' 
a parcel of lai^ worth five pounds a y^ (not an'* , 
annuity) to keep it always in repair. He said^ * 

' ** ■l%e,_ w^ulfl 'do 4n^- thing to oblige nie ; but was t, 
afraid that,.in future times, tjie five ponnds a-year \ 
would be ipisapplied, and'^ecured by tjie dean and*! 
chapter to their, own use." ' I M^swered^ " That a 
deau^and twenty-four members of so* great a cbtip- . 
ter,Jwho, in livings, estates, &c. had about four . 
thousand pounds a-year among' them, would hard^ *' 
divide four sl^Ilings among theAi, to cheat his pd^ 
terity J and that we could have ho view but to con- '.' 
suit the hoiiour ,of his family." 1 therefore cbm- 
mand your f xcellency tu lay this before him, and 






the af!rdht he has put npon us, in not answering a 
. letter written to him by the dean and chapter in a 

The great Duke of Scholhberg is buried under i» 
. the alfar in jny cathedral. My Lady Holderiless is 
' fXny old acquaintance ! and 1' Writ to her about a ^ 
sm^} siSnf, to make a ihonument for her grandfa- 
therr I writ to her myself: and also^ there was a ^ 
letter from the dean and chapteiL to desire she would - 
order a monument to be rkisea for him iif my ca-. 
thedral. It seems Mildmay, now Lord Fitzwalter, 
her husband, is a covet9us fellow ; or whatever is 
the matter, we have had no answer. ""I desire you 
will tell Lord Fitzwaher,***'ThaJ if he will not send 
fifty pounds to make a monuihent for the old duke, 
I and the chapter will 'erect a small one cf t)ur- 
selves for ten pourfds.; wherein it shall be express- 
ed. That the posterity of tfie duk^, naming particu- • 
larly Lady Holdemess and Mr* Mildmay, not ha« ^ 
ving the generosity to erect a monument, we have 
done it of ourselves." And if, for an ^excuse, they * 
* prAend they will send for his lH)dy, let them know 
it is pine; and rather than send, it, I will take up 

« « 

cy will tell Mr Mil^knay, or, a? fhu npw call him. 
I>ofd Eitz waiter^ anc^-I ^p^ likewise, thife he* 
will l^t Sir Conyerp t)* Arcy Know how iU*l^take hi*'* - t 
n^lect ip this matter^ abhou|[h, t6 do him Justice,^ T » ' 
he averred, ** That Mildmay was'so'avarici6usf*i* ^jt 
wretch, that he Vould let his own father be buri^^-* - y - 
without a coffin, io save charges." ♦ ., * . ' * • 

\The Connt^s re^nted Swift's cofkiact up^ th6^ occasion or ^ ^ 
* ilHs epitaph «s an pieq^ ctf lery gre^t iipprndeoct. • • S6e.the £l^- '*^ 

• ; ^ . *fc .. ^ ^ J . . • ^ . > 


• « 

:• ' 

m % 




I expect likewise, that if you are acquainted with 
your successor, you will let him know how imp;mial . 
I was in giving you charactiys of clergymen, withqut 
^ regard to party : and what weight you laid'f)n4them: 
and that having but one cle/gyman wjfo had any 
• I'elation to me, I let him jmss unpreferi;^. 'And' 
lastly, that you will let your said succeS^r \iiow, 
, that you lament the having done nothing for \fr 
-^ Robert Grattan,* ^d give him such -a. recommen- 
* daUon,^that he may have something to mend his 
fortune. v* . . ^ 

These are the mi^Jters ^ leave, in charge to. your - 
excellency ;** and I desire tfiat I, who have done 
with courts, may jiot Defused like a courtier ; for, 
as I was a courtier when ^oU were a schoolboy, I 
know alfyour arts. Anc^W God, and all 

« « f ' taph. itself, which cofftains some reflections of the kkid thraUai* 

* ^ ''•d io this letter, Vol. XIV. p. 378. • m^ 

*■ Of this iii^ily there^'irere seven brothers, so&s of Dr Xin£^ 

■*■ -y <ao, a Tenerable^and hospitable clergj^an,.w|^ gaTC denMdlii 

^ . ^* ' Jiberal education. ' Th^eldest was in 4m commis^iOD of thephetj 

, ^ * * indyJived'T^utably in hi^ patjrimopji In the cotfnUv* Amotber^ 
. ' was a physician f anotkeTf^n, Ja|||es, tfinerchaat( who- died lord 


.'2 eyer nfnteli^y 

^ ^ y%reatest Mty of'^i pri^^ domest^CtJ^iada th 

t* *' -' '-'^r^fllkt walk wa& the only c^TeBJ^ 

/\ .<jibQnkit9,M§i theodlj aglieaMe circuHistKice lhatcoafdtiS|k6 tho* ^. 


your family, my old friends r and remember;! ex- . 
- V^^l you^hidl not dare to he. a courtiertB top. 
^ 1 «m, &c. '*' ' , .^ 
* ' • ■ ^ Jon. Swipt* 

,* ♦ • 

• ^ . FROM MR GAY. 

. V* '■ ■ 

* . B»th, May 18, 17m. *• , 

IDeab'Sib. '.',.. - . 

"' 'I HAVE been at the Bath abdut te» -days, and I -■ '" 
'_ have pl^y^ at no game but once, lapd that at back- '* . \ 
I gammon with Mr'tewie, who is very much youf 
4ianwle servant^ He inhere upon account of^the ■-, 
*iM state t)f health of hi^ wffe, who'lias as yet fbund- 
^ty little^bene^t from tbel.watersr'., J^rd and Vady*'. ^ 
Bolingbroke are here j ap^ I thmlt'she is o^tter , • 
tfto^wjien I'can^ere :' they stay.'aj I gnessron-* ■■ ^ ^ 
tS^ wlut ji /orln)gbfldh'^. Jftey both^esirtd^ay^' 
l^^al^ theiftcarnpSinentg } as,d6e?Mr Congreye,*^ 
ft w^o«is in a'^VM >tliS^I;e of hllbltb. but s«);n9^at -^ ': 

'beHe^^3ince hj .came thafe. 'JVft'Cewis tells me, p^ '** 
j^haih? is ploipissp to^reGeive"*a*.hundred.Iioffij^ V *, . 
. jpUpoh^i^Jur ac<^nt',Bt his retvrfn|(o L-fiftdftrrj-fliAS* ^» ' 
,i.^^VnS^upon'iieq^t) cwnplipd to stE^ jtft the pay*^*'- 
i '^eat lill thaVttM^- ^^^ tiPo t^dreg^undsV^o^^ ' , 
j,'*.ieft wiflilTie aiein th<H haiuls of LopAjf^urst; tOr- •* ;* 
^Jfefether with,some money ol^hi'ine,j.aU*?Bich' he will's^*- *^ 

fUPtlp-y at Midsummer, so-thati>ve musl^inS^f 9(j;ne>' ■ 
_ ^Sther w^ of eioployliig ft;. and I fiaillkot^leaqjt^' *'!'''' 
'4*V**t'to flo. I-i^»«ot kiiowtiow Ibnj I,%lJaH "S^jft- :^', '" » 
."Wrt. becausej afci/io"!.-*^! hlive b^ftaffl my lillf ■*. •» 

j\J -■; ■'..-'"',* ^- . * ^'i- v ■** * - ■• 

t ' 




. •. ■• 




at the disposal of others. I drink the waters^ and 
am in iiopes to lay in a stock of health/, some of 
which I wish t6 communicate to jrou. Dr Delany 
told me you had b^en upon a journey, 'and I really 
fancy taking^horse is as good as taking the wateirs ; 
I hope you have found benefit by it. The Beggar'^ 
Opera is acted here ; but our Polly has got no fame, 
though the actors have got money. I have sent by 
Dr Delany, the opera, Polly Peachum, and Captkin 
Macheath. I would have sent you my own head 
(which is now engraving to make up the gang)^ bat 
It is not yet finished. I suppose you must hVfe 
heard that I have. had the hon<)ur to have had a ser« \ 
mon preached against my works by a court chap- " 
Uin,* which I look upon as no small addition 16 my 
fame. Direct to me here When you write; abd the 
sooner that is, the sooner you will make me happy. 


.U < 

TO MR POPE.. * -J 



June K 1798. 

% i 

^ ■ and one of us (I womld not say which) upon veiy,^ ',*' 
* weak appearances,' aijp this you have libthing toj^ • 

** . . ■ , ■ ■ I ■ ■ ' • ■■■■ ■ 

* * Br Thomn Herrini^ then ^teadftr «j "tfie Socia^ is ^^mi 


-^ - - • 

■ ivitlj. I do profess without afFectation> that j^uij 
' (cind Qpinioji of me as a patriot (sioeeyou call it so) ' ^ 
., is what I do not deserve; because what Ldo is bwin^ 
to perfect rage and resentment, and the mortifying • 

* sight of slavery, ' folly, and baseness ^bout me, %;^ % 
: among which I am forced to live. And I will lake.^ 

my oath that you have mom virtue in an hour than ^' . 
\ I ia seven ytiars; for you despise the follies and hate '. « 
t'the vices of mankind without the kast ill effect on 

your temper ; and with regard to particular men,, 

^ypu are inclined always rather to .think the better, 

*« whereas with me it is always directly contrary. I 

» hope, however, this is not in you. from a superior^ 

•principle of virtue, but from your situation, wliich 

hasKnade all parties and interests indifferent to you;.. 

who can be under no concern about high and low 
»•■ cTiuPcb, whig and-^tory^ ur Who is, firsts ministor.V. 

Your long letter was the* last i jeceived till^is ^ 
J by Dr D^lan^^ althonigh^ yc^^me^tipn another • 
\ sim^e.^ .Th^Dpctcq^told me your secret "about the 
^ Dupciad) which does not pfeasQ'«B^e, because it * 
•» defers gratifying iny^ vanity ii\*tlie ,most^ teAder 

* 'point, aqfl perhaps may \|^holly disappoint iir As * 

to t>ne of y^ur inquires, I ^b^ ea^' enough in great ^ 
^nattersi but b^ve a thoilSand paTtffr vexatious' "in 

* my little station, arid" the more contemptible^ the .' 

* more vexatious. There might b& a Lutrin wrif upon 

* the ti^cks useft by my chapter to' tease me. » I do 

* jiot converse witb one creatuce df^statiop or title, but • 
I have a^set df easy people whom I entrain ^hen 

f 1 have a mind : I have formerly* desipribed them to* 
y*u, but' when you. come ytou shall hav^ thl^ ho-, < 
Hours of t^e cotf^try^|is much af«yott'^e%bse,?arid I 



srisfflt'f» hpr owiT; if*r were ^five-and-twenty I-i 
« ' \oaM wis[i''tbWo((heragT>, to'bc M secure as.^he*' 
is of .a bettei" IMe.' Mts P. Bi • has writ 1o me; ^hhT 
ia^tmfe'of ihe'^best lettet-wrtters Jkaow; very good" 
- ' senw, civility^.and fruenflsfrip* wilhoStaiiy sti(6ie» » 
• >or conltraittt. Tlie- Ounciati has t&ken wind heiCj u 
^ rbutif it*h^iiot,ywtarea3niuch known here as itf'i 
^England, ■^d t^e university lads w?! I ODwd to kin j 
" ■ 4he hem (Jf your, garment* I am ^rievedtohear*lu(r. 
tny LoVd Botrngiroke'* ill health forced him to tjie 
^ath/ »TejI'mfe,'ii not t*nlperafl»ce a necessary ^ir-. 
". tue for great men*, since it i» the pdrent of ease and j 
liberty, so necessary for the use'and-improvementof 
the mind, and TitKch philosophy allows to ht the^ 
^atest felicities' oi^iife ? I believe, bad health be^, 
* giveri so liberally to you', it wduld ha»e been bA{r 
husbSnded .without ^hatd^ lo your parts. • * 

" / , * ' .,*, '- ■* • ' ' Ja» SrfiFT. ' * 

..• - • • 'Flft)M,Mlt1»0PEr' . 

' * *"-.' ' '. "' "DaVlejf Jones* I7M, ■. 

\ *■■ .••.»*■•■* » , ■ * . * 

-* ' IvpwholdtlieifKnforkny Loid Bfl^ingkrokejWbof , 
•is reading yoiiV Jitter between twO|}ia}i£ocks, bat 
*• his atttnti«n is^sopiewh^ diverted by,q^i»g bi5| 

• * ey^s on th^«l(>U(fs, not in admir^\ioi> ctf what yon i 
^rsay-, hilt ftr fe'ar ^ a'shower. He i& pleased wit^ ^ 

■ * * - *V ^^ -'•■ 


• ■' < ■ 


•»■ ^ ■ 

» t 

shall fare like Lepidus, while one of us rans away 
with all the t>ower, like Augustas, and another with 
all the pleasures, like Anthony. It is upon a fore- * 
sight of this that he has fitted up his farm, and you 
will agree that his scheme of retreat at least is not 
founded upon weak appearances. Upon his return - 1 
from the Bath, all peccant humours, he finds, are 
purged out of him; and his great temperance and. 
.eeonomy are so signal, that the first is fit for my 
constitution, and the latter would enable you to lay 
up so much nibney as to buy a bishoprick in Eng* 
land. As to the return of his health and vigour, 
were you here, you might inquire of his hay- 
makers ; but as to' his temperance, I can answer 
that (for one whole day) we have had nothing for 
dinner but mutton broth, beans and bacon, and a 
barn-door fowl. 

Now his lordship is run after his cart, I have a 
moment left to myself to tell you, that I overheard 4 
him yesterday agree wth a painter for 2001. to paint 
his country hall w}th tropl^ies of rak^, spades^ 
prongs, &c. and other ornaments, merely to coun- 
tenance his calling this place a farm — now turn over 
a new leaf. — 

, He bids' me. assure you,, he should be sorry not t(^ 
have more schemes gf kindness for his friends than 
of ambition for himself: there, though his schemes 
may be weak, the motives at least are strong ; and 
he says farther, if you could bear as great a fall and ^ 
decrease of your revenues, as he knows by experi- ^ 
ence he can, you would not live in Ireland an hour. ^ 
^ The Dunciad is going to be printed in all pomp^ 
with thef inscription,' which makes me prpudest. It ^ 
will be %ttten4^4 with proeme^'prokgoniend^ testis 
mfinia .^criplorum, index qutharuit^\ atid nptes van^ 
riorum As4o the latter, « I desire Vou ta read ov0r 

VOL, XVIK ^ ♦P / * • . ^ « 




the text, and make a few in any way you like best;* 
whether dry raillery, upon the style and way of 
commenting of trivial critics ; or humorous, upon 
the authors in the poem ; or historical, of persons, 
places, times; or explanatory, or collecting the 
parallel passages of the ancients. Adieu. I am 
pretty well, my mother not ill. Dr Arbuthnot vexed 
with his fever by intervals ; I am afraid he declines* 
and we shall lose a worthy man : I am troubled 
about him very much. 

• I am^ &c. 


Bath, July 6, ITSS. 

Dkar Sir, 
The last news I have heard of vou was from Mr 
Lancelot, who was at this place with Lord Sussex, 
who gave me hopes of seeing you the latter end of 
this summer. I wish you may keep that resolution, 
and take the Bath in your way to town. You, in all 
probability, will find here some or most of those you 
like to see. Dr Arbuthnot wrote to me to-day 
from Tunbridge, where he is now for the recovery 
of his health, having had several relapses of a fever: 
he tells me that he is much better, and that in Au- 

fust he intends to come hither. Mr Congreve and 
often talk of you, and wish you health and every 
good thing ; but often, out of self-interest, we wish 
you with us. In five or six days I set out upon an 

• Dr Swift did so^— Warbubtoit. 


excursion to Herefordshire, to Lady Scudamore's, 
but shall return here the beginning of August. I 
wish you could meet me at Gutheridge. The Bath 
did not agree with Lady Bolingbroke, and she went 
from here much worse than she came. Since she 
went to Dawley, by her own inclination, without 
the advice of physicians, she has taken to a milk 
diet, and she hath writ me an account of prodigious 
good effects both in the recovery of her appetite 
and spirits^ The weather is extremely hot, the 
place is very empty, I have an inclination to study^ 
but. the heat makes it impossible. The Duke of 
Bolton, I hear, has run away with Polly Peachum,* 
having settled 4001. a-year upon her during pleasure; 
and upon disagreement 2001. a-year. Mr Pope is 
in a state of persecution for the Dunciad ; I wish 
to be witness of his fortitude, but he writes but sel- 
dom. It would be a consolation to me to hear from 
^''ou. I have heard but once from Mrs Howard these 
three months, and I think but once from Mr Pope. 
My portrait mezzotinto is published from Mrs How- 
ard's painting ; I wish I could contrive to send you 
one, but I fancy I could get a better impression at 
London. I have ten thousand things to talk to you, 
but few to write ; yet defer writing to you no long- 
er, knowing you interest yourself in every thing that 
concerns me so much, that I make you happy, as 
you will me, if you can tell me you are in good 
health, which I wish you to hear every morning as 
soon as I awake. 

I am, dear Sir, 

Yours most affectionately . 

Miii Feoton, whom he afterwards married. 



July 16) 172& 

I Aavb often run over the Dunciad, in an Irish 
edition (I supppse full of faults) ivhich a gentleman 
sent me. The notes I could wish to be very large, 
in what relates to the persons concerned : for I have 
long observed that twenty miles from London no- 
body understands hints, initial letters, or town facts 
and passages ; and in a few years not even those 
who live in Ix)ndon. I would have the names of 
those scribblers printed indexically at the beginning 
or end of the poem, with an account of their works, 
for the reader to refer to. I Would have all the 
parodies (as they are called) referred to the author 
they imitate.— When I began this long paper, I 
thought I should have filled it with setting down 
the several passages I had marked in the edition I 
had, but I find it unnecessary, so many of them 
falling under the same rule. After twenty times 
reading the whole, I never, in my opinion, saw so 
much good satire or more good sense in so many 
lines. How it passes in Dublin I know not yet; 
but I am sure it will be a great disadvantage to the 
poem, that the persons and facts will not be under- 
stood till an explanation comes out, and a very fhll 
one. I imagine it not to be published till toward 
winter, when folks begin to gather in town. Again. 
I insist, you must have your asterisks filled up wit 
some real names of real dunces. 

I am now reading your preceding letter of JuneSfe^ 
and find that all I have advised above is mentioned 
there. 1 would be glad to know whether the quarto 


edition is to come out anonymously, as published 
by the commentator, with all his pomp of prefaces, 
&c. and among many complaints of spurious edi- 
tions ? I am thinking whether the editor should not 
follow the old style of this excellent author, &c. and 
refine in many places when you meant no refine- 
ment? and into the bargain, take all the load of 
naming the dunces, their qualities, histories, and 
performances ! 

As to yourself, I doubt you want a spurrer-on to 
exercise and to amijsements ; but to talk of decay 
at your season of life is a jest. But you are not sq 
regular as I. You are the most temperate man 
Godward, and the most intemperate yourselfward, 
of most I have known. I suppose Mr Gay will 
return from the Bath with twenty pounds more 
flesh and two hundred less in money : Providence 
never designed him to be above two-and-twenty by 
his thoughtlessness and cullibility. He has as little 
foresight of age, sickness, poverty, or loss of admirers, 
93 a girl at fifteen. By the way, I must observe, that 
my Lord Bolingbroke (from the effects of his kind- 
ness to me) argues most sophistically : the fall from 
a million tQ a hundred thousand pounds is not so 
great as frqm eight hundred poinds a-year to one : 
besides he is a controller of fortune, and poverty 
dares not look a great minister in the face under his 
lowest declensioq. I never knew him live so greatly 
and ei^pensively as h^ has done since his return from 
exile ; siich mortals have resources that others are 
not able to comprehend. But God bless you, whose 
great genius had not so transported you as to leave 
you to the courtesy of mankind ; for wealth is li- 
berty, and liberty is a blessing fittest for a philoso- 
pher — and Gay is a slave just by two thousand 


pounds too little. And Horace was of mj mind, 
and let my lord contradict him if he glares. 

Jon. Swift. 


Market-hUI, • August % 17tt. 

Our friends here, as well as myself, were sadly 
disappointed upon hearing the account of your jour- 
ney. Nobody in town or country, as we were in- 
formed, knew where you were ; but I persuaded our 
family, that you were certainly in a way of making 
yourself easy, and had got that living you mention- 
ed, and ^accordingly we were grieved, and rejoiced 
at the loss and settlement of a friend ; but it never 
entered into our heads, that you were bestowing 
forty days in several stages between constable and 
constable, without any real benefit to yourself^ far- 
ther than of exercise ; and we wished that nobody 
should have had the benefit of your long absence 
from your school but yourself, by a good living, or 
we by your good company; much less than the 

pleasure of spiteing T 1 had been your great 

motive. I heartily wish you were settled at Hamil- 
ton's Bawn, and 1 would be apt to advise you not to 
quit your thoughts that way, if the matter may be 
brou.e:ht to bear ; for by a letter I just received from 
the Bishop of Cork, which was short and dry, with 

t The seat of Sir Arthur Achesoiu-^H. 
i Richard Tigh^. 


the stale excuse of pre-engagements, I doubt you 
can hope nothing from him. As to what you call 
my exercise, I have Iodr quitted it : it gave me too 
much constraint, and the world does not deserve it. 
We may keep it cold till the middle of winter. 

As to my return, there are many speculations. I 
am well here, and hate resiovals ; my scheme was, 
that you should come hither, as you say, and I re- 
turn with you in your chaise. Sir Arthur, on hear- 
ing your letter, pressed me ta stay longer. I am a 
very busy man, such as at Quilca, which you will 
know when you come ; yet I would contrive to be 
pressed more to stay till Christmas, and that you 
may ccmtrive to be here again, and take me back 
with you time enough for tny own visitation : and • 
my reason for staying is,, to be here the planting 
and pruBing time, &c. I hate Dublin, and love 
the retirement here, and the civility of my hosts. 
This is ray state and humour upon it, and accord- 
ingly you are to manage my scheme. However, I 
would have you keep your vacation of September 
here : and let Mrs Brent send me a dozen guineas 
(half of them half guineas) by you, and a periwigs 
and a new riding-gown and cassock, and whatever 
else I may want by a longer absence, provided you 
will resolve and swear that I shall stay. 

I h^d all Mrs Brent's packets by Mr Little. My 
service to Mrs Dingley. I cannot say that i h^ve 
Hiore to say, than to aay that I am, &c. 

JoN. Swift, 



Sept 18, 1798.* 

My continuance here is owing partly to indo- 
lence, and partly to my hatred to Dublin. I am in 
a middling way, between healthy and sick, hardly 
ever without a little giddiness or deafness, and some- 
times both : so much for that. As to what you call 
my lesson, I told you I would think no more of it, 
neither do I conceive the world deserves so much 
trouble from you or me. I think the sufferings of 
the country ror want of silver deserves a paper, f 
* since the remedy is so easy, and those in power so 
negligent. I had some other subjects in my thoughts : 
but truly I am taken up so much with long lam* 
poons on a person, who owns you for a back, that' 
I have no time for any thing else : and if I do not 
produce one every now and then of about two hun- 
dred lines, I am chid for my idleness, and threaten- 
ed with you. I desire you will step to the deanery, 
speak to Mrs Brent, j; bid her open the middle 
great drawer of Ridgeway*s scrutoire in my closet, 
and then do you take out from thence the history § 
in folio, marble cover; and two thin folios fairly 
writ. I forget the titles, but you have read them ; 
one is an account of the proceedings of Lord Ox- 
ford's ministry, and the other p to the same purpose. 

• This should also be dated from Market.hill.— H. 
f In the iDtelligencer, the 19th namber of which b OB this 
snbject.^-H. See Vol. IX. p. SOO. 
{ The Dean's housekeeper. — H. 
^ History of the Peace of Utrecht— H. 
II The State of Affairs in 1714.<-Ht 

kpistoi^ahy correspondence. 233 

There are foul copies of both in the same dmwer, 
but do you take out the fair ones, not in my hand. 
Let them be packed up and brought hither by the 
bearer. My lady is perpetually quarrelling with 
Sir Arthur and me, and shows every creature the 
libels I have writ against her. * 

Mr Worrall sent me the particulars of the havock 
made in Naboth's vineyard, f The d— — burst, 

I think Lady Dun's burning would be an admi« 
rable subject to show how hateful an animal a hu- 
man creature is that is known to have never done 
any good. The rabble all rejoicing, &o. which 
they would not have done ^t any misfortune to a 
man known to be charitable. 

I wish you could get in with the primate, on the 
account of some discourse about you here to-day 
with Whaley and Walmsley. Whaley goes to Dub- 
lin on Monday next in order for England. I would 
have you see him. I fancy you may do some good 
with the primate as to the first good vacant school^ 
if you wheedle him, and talk a little whiggishly . 

Jon. Swift, 

* See Hamiltgn's Bawn, or the Grand Question debated.— H. 
Lady Acheson's anger was, of course, affected, as it appears from 
a preceding passage, that she often pressed him to write these 
lampoons, as Swift calls them. Yet by the foolbh and malig- 
nant libellers who delighted to attack our author, these liyely 
trifles were represented as serious breaches of hospitality. 

4 A field, not far from the deanery chouse, which Doctor Swift 
inclosed at a great expence, with a 4ne stone wall lined wiUi 
brick, against which he planted Tines and the best-chosen fruit. 
ti^es, for the benefit of the Dean of St iVitrick's for the time 
Ixing.— H, 



I THANK you kindly for your news of the Dean 
of St Patrick*8, for your Persius, ♦ for every thing 
in your letter. I will use my warmest endeavours 
to serve Dr Whaley. Beside his own merit, the 
demerit of his antagonist goes into the scale, and 
the dean tells me he is a co-adjutant of that foel 
Smedley. You must have se^n, but yon camM 
have read, what he has lately published against 
our friend and me. The only pleasure a bad wri- 
ter can give me he has given, that of being abused 
with my betters and my friends. I am much pleas- 
ed with most of the Intelligencers, but I am a little 
piqued at the author of them for not once doing me 
the honour of a mention upon so honourable an 
occasion as being slandered by the dunces, together 
with my friend the Dean, who is properly the au- 
thor of the Dunciad : it had never been Writ but at 
his request, and for his deafness ; for had he been 
able to convers.e with me, do you think I had amus- 
ed my time so ill ? I will not trouble you with 
amendments to so imperfect an edition as is now 
published ; you will soon see a better, with a full 
and true commentary, setting all mistakes right, and 
branding none but our own cattle. Some very good 
epigrams on the gentlemen of the Dunciad have 
been sent me from Oxford, and others of the Lon- 
don authors: if I had an amanuensis (wluchisa 
thing neither I nor my common trifles are worth) 

* A prose tnnslation by Dr Sheridao, formerly neiitioiicd« 


you should have them with this. If your univer- 
sity or town have produced any on this subject pray 
send them me, or keep them at least together^ for 
another day they may all meet. 

I have writ to the dean just now by Mr Elring- 
ton, who charges himself with this, and have insert- 
ed a hint or two of his libelling the lady of the fa^ 
mily : in as innocent a manner as he does it, he will 
hardly suspect I had any information of it. * 

Though I am a very ill correspondent, I shall at 
all times be glad to have the favour of a line from 
you. My eyesight is bad, my head often in pain, 
my time strangely taken up. Were I my own mas- 
ter (which, I thank God, I yet am, in all points but 
one, where humanity only constrains me) I would 
infailibly see Ireland before I die. But whether 
that, or many other of my little, though warm de- 
signs, will ever take effect, 

Caliginosa nocte premit Dens i 

I am (wherever I am) the Dean's, and the Dean^s 
friends, and consequently faithfully. Sir, 

Your anectionate servant, 

A. Pori. 


* This probably aUndes to the murepraKntatioiis of tbe deaa's 
pieces of humour, composed dariog his leiidBBce at MarkeU 



Saptember 28, 173S* 

I HAD all the letters given me by my servants: 
so tell Mrs Brent f and Dr Sheridan: and I thank 
you for the great care you had in the commissions I 
troubled you with. 

I imagine Mrs Brent is gone into the country^ 
but that you know where to send to her. I deare 
you will pay her foui; pounds, and sixteen pounds 
to Mrs Dingley, and take their receip^. I beg 
Mrs Dingley's pardon for not rememberijig her debt 
sooner; and my humble service to h^. I desire 
Mrs Brent to send, me the best receipt she has for 
making meath : she may send me her receipt for 
making the strong meath, and that for making the 
next strong, and the third strong. Hers was alwavs 
too strong; and on Ihat account she was so wilful I 
would suffer her to make no more. There is a 
vexatious thing happened about the usquebaugh for 
my Lord Bolingbroke* It seems, you only directed 
it for the Earl of Berkeley ; but I thought I had 
desired you to add " for Lord Bolingbroke :" but 
there is nothing in that ; for I wrote to the Earl of 
Berkeley, to give him notice. But Mr Gavan, who 
married a daughter of Mrs Kenna, who keeps the 
inn at Chester, hath just s^nt me a letter, infonn- 

• Vicar of St Fatrick's, a quiet and tnteUigent man, with wbon 
Swift liTed on a Tery casj footing, occasionally dining at hi$ 
house at a settled board. He often acted, as appears from this 
and other letters, as a kind of agent in the Dean's priiate af 

t His housekeeper ••--fH« 


ing me that the usquebaugh came to Park Gate, 
within seven miles of Chester ; and that Mr Whit- 
tle, the owner of the ship, was to deliver it himself; 
but he sent it by a man of a noted bad character, 
who, as Mrs Kenna supposes, kept it some time, 
and opened it before he delivered it; for, imme- 
diately upon the delivery of it, Mrs Kenna sent 
to Park Gate, to have the usquebaugh brought up 
to Chester; but was told that the fellow had brought 
it away; that he said, he sent it as directed: but 
that no doubt he must have some view of paying 
himself for the trouble. Which made him so busy ; 
but whelher it was by changing the usquebaugh, 
or overraftng the charges of it, Mr Gavan could 
not tell ; But adds, that, if I should hear of any 
thing amiss,'! should write to Mrs Kenna, his mo- 
ther, who win endeavour to make the fellow do me 
justice. All t^is I have transcribed from Mr Ga- 
van's letter ; an^ I desire you will call upon his fa- 
ther, Mr Luke Gavan (who is a known man in Dub- 
lin,) and desire hftp, when he writes to his* son, to 
give my service to him and Mrs Kenna, and let 
them know t will do as they direct. I am very un- 
fortunate in this affair ; but have no remedy ; how- 
ever, I will write toXord Bolingbroke: though I 
I fear I am cheated oi it all : for I do not find that 
the fellow demanded any thing from Mrs Kenna, or 
came to her at all. ^our new fancies of making 
my riding-gown and cassock (I mean Mrs Brent's 
fancies) do not please iiie at all, because they differ 
so much from my oldAne. You are a bad packer 
of bad grapes. Mrs Dingley says, she cannot per- 
1^ suade Mrs Brent to wke a vomit. Is she not (do 
\\ not tell her) an oldr fool ? She has made me take 
Nmany a one withom mercy. Pray give Mrs Wor- 
kll a thousand t)|anks from me, for her kind present 


and workmanship of her fairest hands in making rae 
two nightcaps. 

We have a design npon Sheridsm* He sent ns 
in print a ballad upon Balljspellin, in which he has 
employed all the rhymes he could find to that word ; 
but we have found fifteen more, and employed them 
in abusing his ballad, and Ballyspellin too. I here 
send you a copy, and desire you will get it printed 
privately, and published. * 

Your periwig-maker is a cursed rogue. The wig 
he gave you is an old one with a new cawl, and so 
big that I cannot wear it, and the curls all fallen : I 
just tried it on my head ; but I cannot wear it. 

I am ever yours, &c. 

Jon. Swift. 


Bath, Not. 12, tTM. 

I HAVB passed six Aveeks in quest of health, and 
found it not: but I found the folly of solicitude 
about it in a hundred instances : the contrariety of 
opinions and practices, the inability of physicians, 
the blind obedience of some patients, and as blind 
rebellion of others. I believe at a certain time of 
life, men are either fools or physicians for them- 
selves ; and zealots, or divines for themselves. 

It was much in my hopes that you intended us a 

^ This p«rodj was taken much amiss both by Sheridao and 
ike ladj who had been paoegyriMd in the ortgioal ballad. Stt 
Vol. XV. pages 119, 132. 



winter's visits but last week I repented that wish» 
haying been alarmed with a report of your lying ill 
on the road from Ireland; from which I am just 
relieved by an assurance that you are still at Sir Ar- 
thur'sy^ planting and building ; two things that I 
^nyy you for, beside a third, which is the society 
of a valuable lady. I conclude, though I know no- 
thing of it, that you quarrel with her, and abuse 
her every day, if she is so. I wonder I hear of no 
lampoons upon her, either made by yourself, or by 
others, because you esteem her. f I think it a vast 
pleasure that whenever two people of merit regard 
one another, so many scoundrels envy and are an- 
gry at them ; it is bearing testimony to a merit they 
cannot reach ; and if you knew the infinite content 
I have received of late, at the finding yours and my 
name constantly united in any silly scandal, I think 
you would go near to sing lo Triumphe / and cele- 
brate my happiness in verse : and I believe if you 
will not, I shall. The inscription to the Dunciad 
is now printed, and inserted in the poem. Do you 
care I should say any thing farther how much that 
poem is yours ? since certainly without you, it had 
never been. Would to God we were together for 
the rest of our lives ! the whole weight of scribUers 
would just serve to find us amusement, and not 
more. I hope you are too well employed to mind 
them ; eveiy stick you plant, and every stone you 
lay is to some purpose : but the business of such 
lives as theirs, is but to die daily, to labour, and 
raise nothing. I only wish we could comfort each 

^ Sir Arthur AcliesoiL— -H. 

f Tlib seema to be tiie hfait alhided to by Pope fai Us letter to 



Other under our bodily infirmities, and let those who 
have so great a mind to have more wit than we, win 
it and wear it. Give us but ease, heahh, peace, and 
fair weather ! I think it is the best wish in the world, 
and you know whose it was. If I lived in Ireland, 
I fear the wet climate would endanger more than 
my life, my humour and health, I am so atmosphe* 
rical a creature. 

I must not omit acquainting you, that what ytm 
heard of the words spoken of you in the drawing- 
room was not true. The sayings of princes are 
generally as ill related as the sayings of wits. To 
such reports little of our regard should be given, 
and less of our conduct influenced by them. 


MarkeUhill, Not. 16^ 1798. 


I AM extremely obliged to you for your kind in* 
tention in the purchase you mention ; but it will 
not answer my design, because these lands are let 
in leases renewable for ever, and consequently can 
never have the rent raised ; which is mortal to all 
estates left for ever to a public use, and is contrary 
to a fundamental maxim of mine ; and most cor- . 
porations feel the smart of it. 

I have been here several months, to amuse me in 
my disorders of giddiness and deafness, of which I 
have frequent returns — and I shall hardly return to 
Dublin till Christmas. 

I am truly grieved at your great loss.* Such 

* The loss of his wife* 


miafbrtunes seem to break the whole scheme of 
man's life^ and although time may lessen sorrow, 
yet it cannot hinder a man from feeling the want 
of so near a companion, nor hardly supply it with 
another. I wish you health and happiness, and 
that the pledge^ left you may prove a comfort. I 
am» with great sincerity, your most obliged and 
most humble servant, 

Jon. Swift. 


December 1, 1728* 

My Lord, 

I DEDICATE to you this edition and translation of 
Persius, f as an acknowledgment for the great plea- 
sure vou gave me in the first part of your education, 
which, by your own application and goodness of 
temper, was attended with a success equal to my 

And since you still proceed in the same paths of 
diligence and virtue in the university, where you 
have already distinguished yourself in a very short 
time, it lays a further obligation upon me, to re- 
turn you my thanks in this public manner, for hav- 
ing so faithfully regarded the last advice which I 
gave you. 

* A son, afterward a barrbter at law.— F. 
f A liteial traoslation in proie, published at Dablio^ hj G. 
Crrierton, 17S8, Itoo.— N. 

VOL. XYll. Q 


When I hear from your governors, with what re- 
spect and deference you tr6at them ! how cheerful 
you are in your obedience to their commands ! that 
you are constant in all duties enjoined you by the 
statutes (too much hitherto neglected by those of 
your quality); that you are regular in your life; 
decent in your behaviour; good-natured and civil 
to your companions, whom you have prudently 
chosen from among the best ; that you are diligent 
in your studies ; with many other additions to your 
character, which very much redound to your ho- 
nour; I then return rtiy thanks to God, smd think 
all my labour on your account rewarded in the 
noblest and the best manner. . 

You are now in a situation of taking two the 
most delightful prospects, that a generous mind 
can have. First, you can look back upon a good 
and honourable reputation, left behind you among 
your school-fellows. You can behold that ardent 
emulation in most of them, which you kindled in 
their breasts by your example; and thus you see 
yourself a blessed instrument of bringing others into 
the road of honour and virtue, which you naturally 
followed upon the first direction. The next pros- 
pect is, that you are now placed on a more public 
stage, among the hopefullest young gentlemen of 
this kingdom, who are already so far influenced by 
your example, that they rather seem willing to 
contend with vou in the race, than to follow ; and 
this by your own encouragement. Consider, my 
Lord, the good you now do, is not confined to the 
present age : but those to come shall shew the effects 
of your virtue, and posterity shall bless you for 
giving an advantage to them, which they can only 
requite by the greatest esteem they will preserve for 
your memory. 



I shall make you no compliments upon your birth 
or title, for which, you and your school-fellows will 
witness for me, that I never did once either distin- 
guish or spare you, while you were under my care. 
Neither shall 1 ever allow you any merit from the 
mere advantages of fortune. Besides, I always 
X)bserved 'you much more fond of the genealogies 
of the Greek and Roman heroes, than of your own. 
There you found so many wonderful examples of 
piety, wisdom, justice, fortitude, love to their 
country, faithfulness to their friends, every action 
great, noble, and truly humane, that it is not to be 
wondered your character exceeds your years, when 
you endeavoured to borrow most of it from them ; 
for which every wise man will acquit you, since 
there are so few examples in the present world, that 
will deserve your imitation. But, the great charac- 
ters of antiquity are such, as you may safely follow 
in every thing that is great and good. And although 
it hath been your misfortune to live in a country, 
not the most inviting scene to employ those talents 
which God hath given you, and which your own 
disposition, added to the care of your instructors, 
is so likely to improve ; yet let not that be a dis- 
couragement from persevering to qualify yourself, 
for appearing one (fay, where you can shine to more 

But my zeal for your happiness makes me forget 
that you are now under governors much fitter to 
direct you in, your future conduct. I shall there- 
fore only join with them in my good wishes for a 
blessing on their labours. ^^ Si agricolam arbor ad 
fructum perducta delectat; si pastor ex foetu gregis 
8ui capit voluptatem; si alumnum suum nemo aliter 
intuetur quam ut adolescentiam illius suam judicet, 
quid evenire credis his qui ingenia educaverunt, et 


qui tenera formaverant, adulta subito vident ? As- 
sero te mihi, Meum opus es."* My case, my 
Lord is the very same. You are a plant of my 
own rearing; and although vou be now remofcd 
to another soil, the same delight, which I con- 
ceived at your prosperous growth, makes roe earnest 
in my expectations to see the fruit. May jm, 
never disappoint our hopes, but become a true soa 
of the church, a loyal subject to your pri'm^, t 
faithful friend to your country, and an honoor 
to the age you live in ! May all happiness and suc- 
cess attend you to the last period of your life ! I 
am, my Lord, 

With true respect, esteem, and affection. 
Your most obedient, and most humble servant, 

Thomas Shsrioav. 


London, Dec, 2, 1718. 

Dbar Sir, 
I THINK this is my fourth letter, I am sure it b 
the third, without any answer. If I had nny 
ance of your health, I should have been more 
I should have writ to you upon this subject above a 
month ago, had it not been for a report that yoa 
were upon the road in your way to England : which 
I fear now was without foundation. Your monej, 
with part of my own, is still in the hands of Lofd 
Bathurst, which I believe he will keep no longer, 
bat repay upon his coming to town ; when I 

• 8«Mca, Ep. M. 


endeavour to dispose of it as I do of my own, unless 
I receive your orders to the contrary. Lord and 
Lady Bolingbroke are in town : she has been lately 
very ill, but is now somewhat better. I have had a 
very severe attack of a fever, which, by the care of 
our friend Dr Arbuthnot, has, I hope, almost left 
me. I have been confined about ten days, but 
never to my bed, so that I hope soon to get abroad 
about my business ; that is, the care of the second 
part of the Beggar's Opera, which was almost ready 
for rehearsal; but Rich received the Duke of Graf- 
ton's commands (upon an information that he was. 
rehearsing a play improper to be represented), not 
to rehearse any new play whatever, till his grace has 
seen it. What will become of it I know not ; but 
I am sure I have written nothing that can be legally 
suppressed, unless the setting vices in general in an 
odious light, and virtue in an amiable one, may give 
offence. I passed five or six months this year at 
the Bath with the Duchess of Marlborough; and 
then, in the view (Staking care of myself, writ this 
piece. If it goes on in case of success, I have 
taken oare to make better bargains for myself: I 
tell you this, because I know you are so good as to 
interest yourself so warmly in my affairs, that it is 
what ^ou would want to know. I saw Mr Pope 
on Fndav, who, as to his health, is just as you left 
bim. Fiis mother, by his account, is much the 
same. Mr Lewis, who is very much your servant 
(as are all I have mentioned) tells me, farther time 
19 still desired of him about the hundred pounds. 
Dr Arbuthnot particularly desires his compliments, 
and Mrs Howard often asks after you. Prince 
Frederick is expected over this week. I hope to 
go abroad in two or three days. I wish I could 
meet with you either abroad or ^t home. 



MarkeUHill, Jan. 4, 1728-9. 

I HAD your long letter^ and thank you heartily 
for your concern about my health. I continue very 
deaf and giddy : but, however, I would certaiifly! 
come to town, not only for my visitation, but be- 
cause in these circumstances, and in winter, I would 
rather be at home. But it is now Saturday night, 
and that beast Sheridan is not yet come, although 
it ^as been thawing since Monday. If I do not 
come, you know what to do. 

My humble service to our friends^ as usual. 

JoN. Swift. 


Market.Hil1, Jan. 13, 17^.9. 

I JUST received your letter, and should never 
have done, if I returned you thanks so often as 
I ought for your care and kindness; both my dis- 
orders still continue; however, I desire that Mrs 
Bient may make things ready, for my raggedness 
will soon force me away. I have been now ill about 
a month, but the family are so kind as to speak 
loud enough for me to hear them ; and my deafness 
is not so extreme as you have known when I have 
fretted at your mannerly voice, and was only re- 
lievied'by Mrs Worrall. 

I send you enclosed the fruit of my illness, to 


make an Intelligencer;* I desire you will enclose 
it in a letter to Mrs Harding, and let your letter 
be in an unknown hand, and desire her to shew it 
to the author of the Intelligencer, and to print it if 
he thinks fit. There is a letter, you will find, that 
is to be prefixed before the verses, which letter is 
grounded on a report, and if that report be false, 
the former part of the letter will be unseasonable, 
but the latter will not: and therefore the Intelli- 
gencer must be desired to alter it accordingly. 

It should be sent soon, to come time enough for 
the next Intelligencer. 

Pray, in your letter to Mrs Harding, desire her 
to make her people be more correct, and that the 
Intelligencer himself may look over it, for that 
every body who reads those papers, are very much 
offended with the continual nonsense made by her 

I am, yours, 

JoN. Swift. 


Market.Hill, Jan. 18, 1728.9. 

I H/ivE yours of the 14th instant, but you had 
not then received my last, in which was inclosed a 
paper for the Intelligencer, which I hope you have 
disposed of as desired. My disorder still continues 
the same for this fortnight past, and I am neither 

* A weekly paper by Drs Swift, Sheridan, llclsham, &c. 
which were afterward reprinted in one Tolume 8to. 


better nor worse. However, I resolve to return on 
the first mending of the weather; these three last 
dayi there beii^ as violent a storm as I have known, 
which still continues. We have been told my Lord 
Mountcashel * is dead at Drogheda, but believe it 
to be a lie. However, he is so tender, and aflects 
so much vigour and fatigue, that we have been in 
pain about him. 

I had a letter two days ago, which cost me mx 
shillings and fourpence; it consisted of the probate 
of a will in Leicestershire^-and of two inclosed letters, 
and was beyond the weight of letters franked. When 
I went a lad to my mother, after the revolution, she 
brought me acquainted with a family where there 
was a daughter with whom I was acquainted. My 

Srudent mother was afraid I should be in love with 
er; but when I went to London, she married an 
inn-keeper in Loughborough, in that county, by 
whom she had several children, f The old mother 
died and left all that she had to her daughter afore- 
said, separate from ter husband. This woman (my 
mistress with a pox^ left several children, who are 
all dead but one aaughter, Anne by napie. This 
Anne, for it must be she, about seven years ago writ 
to me from London, to tell me she was daughter of 
Betty Jones, for that was my mistress's name, till 
she was married to one Perkins, inn-keeper, at the 
George in Loughborough, as I said before. The 
subject of the girl's letter was, that a young lady of 
good fortune was courted by an Irishman, who 
pretended to be barrack-master general of Ireland, 

* Edward Davis, Lord Viscount of MouDtcasheL 
f This amour, if it can he so termed, is alluded to m 8wift*l 
Iftters to tiic Rer. John Kendal^ llth Feb. \W\'^ 


and desired me at an oldr acquaintance of her mo- 
ther Betty Jones, akas Perkins, to inquire about 
this Irishman. I answered, that I knew him not, 
but supposed he was a cheat; I heard no more. 
But now comes a letter to me from this Betty Jones^ 
o/tot Perkins, to let me know that her daughter^ 
Anne Giles, married an Irishman, one Giles, and 
was now come over to Ireland to pick up some debts 
due to her husband, which she could not get ; that 
the young widow (for her husband Giles is dead) hat 
a mind to settle in Ireland, and to desire I would 
lend her daughter Giles three guineas, which her 
mother will pay me when I draw upon her in Eng- 
land, and Mrs Giles writes' me a letter to that 
purpose. She intends to take a shop, and will 
borrow the money from Mrs Brent (whose name 
she has learned), and pay me as others do. I was 
at first determined to desire you would, from me, 
make her a present of five pounds, on account of 
her mother and grandmother, whcMn my mother 
used to call cousin. She has .sent me an attested 
copy of her mother^s will, which, as I told you, cost 
me six shillings and fourpence. But I am in much 
tkmbt : for by her mother's letters, she is her heiress, 
and the grandmother lefi Betty Jones, alius Per- 
kins, the mother of this woman in Dublin, all she 
had^ as a separate maintenance from her husband 
(who proved a rogue) to the value of five hundred 
pounds. Now, I cannot conceive why she would 
let her only daughter and heiress come to Ireland, 
without giving her money to bear her charges here, 
and put her in some way. The woman's name is 
Anne Giles, she lodges at one Mrs Wilmot's, the 
first house in Molesworth-Courtt on the right hand, 
in Fishamble-Street. I have told you this long story, 
to desire you will send for the woman, this Anne 


Giles, and examine [her s^trictly, to find if she be 
the real daughter of Elisabeth Jones, alias Perkins, 
or not; and how her mother, who is so well able, 
came to send her in so miserable a condition to 
Ireland. The errand is so romantic, that I know not 
what to say to it. I would be ready to sacrifice five 
pounds, on old acquaintance, to help tbe woman; 
J suspect her mother's letters to be counterfeit, for I 
remember she spells like a kitchen-maid. And so I 
end this worthy business. 

My bookseller, Mr Motte, by my recommenda- 
tion, dealt with Mr Hyde;* there are some ac- 
counts between them, and Hyde is in his debt 
He has desired me to speak to Mr Hyde's executors 
to state the account, that Mr Motte may be in the 
way to recover the balance. I wish you would step 
to Mr Hyde's house, and inquire how that matter 
stands, and how Mr Motte is to be paid. I suppose 
Mr Hyde died in good circumstances, and that 
there will be no danger of his creditors suffering by 
his death. 

I enclose a letter to Mr Matte, which you will be 
so kind to send to the post-office. 

I desire, likewise, that you will make Mrs Brent 
buy a bottle of usquebaugh, and leave it with the 
woman who keeps Sir •Arthur Acheson's house in 
Capel Street, and desire her to deliver it to Captain 
Creichton, f who lodges at the Pied Horse, in 

* Mr Jolin Hyde, an eminent bookseller of Dublin, of fair 
good character.— F. . 

- + The ancient cavalier, and dragoon officer, whose memoln 
the Dean published. In this, as in other cases, the Dean's gift 
was happily adapted, doubtless, to the taste of the person oa 
whom it was conferred ; unless, indeed, the reader should argae^ 


Capel Strefet, and is to bring down other things to 
my Lady Acheson. . 

My most humble service to Mrs Worrall, Mrs 
Dingley, and love to Mrs Brent, 

I wish you aU a happy new year. 

JoN. Swift. 


Dublin, Feb. 13, I7S8.9. 

I LIVED very easily in the country : Sir Arthur is 
a man of sense j and a scholar^ has a good voice, and 
my lady abetter;* she is perfectly well bred and 
desirous to improve her understanding, which is 
very good, but cultivated too much like a fine lady. 
She was my pupil there, and severely chid when she 
read wrong'; witH that, and walking, and making 
twenty little amusing improvements^ and writing 
family verses of mirth by way of libels yn my lady, 
my time passed very well and in very great order ; 
infinitely better than here, where I see no creature 
but my servants and my old presbyterian house- 
keeper, denying myself to everybody, till I shall 
recover my ears. 

The account of another lord-lieutenant was only 
in a common newspaper, when I was in the country; 
and if it should have happened to be true, I would 
have desired to have had access to him as the situ- 

from tbe conclasioa of the sentence, that it was designed for Lady 


. * This was a quality of great importaoce to the society of a 

person snbject to deafness • 


ation I am in requires. But this renews the grief for 
the death of our friend Mr Congreve,* whom I 
loved from my youth, and who surely, beside bis 
other talents, was a very agreeable companion. He 
had the misfortune to squander away a very good 
constitution in his younger days ; and I think a man 
of sense and merit like him, is bound in conscience 
to preserve his health for the sake of his friends, as 
well as of himself. Upon his own account I could 
not much desire thfe continuance of his life, under 
so much pain, and so many infirmities. Years 
have not yet hardened me : and I have an addition 
of weight on my spirits since we lost him ; though 
1 saw him so seldom, and possibly if he had lived 
on, should never have seen him more. I do not 
only wish as you ask me, that I was unacquainted 
with anv deserving person, but almost, that I never 
had a friend. Here is an ingenious good-humoured 
physician, a fine gentleman, an excellent scholar, 
easy in his fortunes, kind to every body, has abun- 
dance of friends, entertains them often and liberally; 
they pass the evening with him at cards, with plenty 
of good meat and wine, eight or a dozen together ; 

* He was certainly one of the most polite, pkasiqg, and well* 
bred men of all his contemporaries. And it mi^ht hare been 
laid of him, as of Cowley, ** Ton would not, from hit cooTer. 
Bation, ha?e known htm io haTe been a wit and a poet, it was so 
vnassnming and oourteooa." Swift bad always a groat regaid 
and atfecUon for him ; and introduced him, though a stieauous 
whig, to the favour of Lord Oxford. It is remarkable, that on 
Ae first publication, CongreTe thought ^* the Tale of a Tab" 
gross and insipid.^§wift, in a copy of yerses to l>r Delany, 
drew a picture of Congrere's fortune aad sitnatioo, which is 
unfair and oYcrchargcd. For the honour of gofemment, Coa* 
gre!^e had se?eral good places conferred on him, and enjoyed an 
affluent income.— Dr Warton. 


he lores them alU and they him; he has twenty of 
these at command; if one of them dies, it is no 
more than poor Tom ; he gets another, or takes up 
with the rest, and is no more moved than at the 
loss of his cat; he offends nobody, is easy with 
everybody — is not this the truly happy man? I 
was describing him to my Lady A ■ , * who knows 
him too, but she hates him mortally by my cha- 
racter, and will not drink his health : I would give 
half my fortune for the same temper, and yet I 
cannot say I love it, for I do not love my Lord , 
who is much of the doctor's nature. I hear Mr 
Gay*s second opera which you mentioned, is forbid; 
and then he will be once more fit to be advised, and 
reject your advice. Adieu. 

JoN. Swift* 


March 6, 1738.9. 
If I am not a good correspondent, I have bad 
health ; and that is as good. I passed eight months 
in the country, with Sir Arthur and my LadyAcheson^ 
and had at least half a dozen returns of my giddiness 
and deafness, which lasted me about three weeks 
a-piece; and, among other inconveniencies, hin-* 
dered me from visiting my chapter, and punishing^ 
enormities; but did not save me the charges of a 
visitation dinner. This disorder neither hinders 
my sleeping, nor much my walking: yet is the 

^ Acheson.. 


most mortifying malady T can sufier. I have been 
just a month in town^ and have just got rid of it in 
a fortnight: and, when it is on me, I have neither 
spirits to write, or read, or think, or eat. But I 
drink as much as I like; which is a resource you 
cannot fly to when you are ill. And I like it as 
little as you : but I can bear a pint better than you 
can a spopnful. You were very kind in your care 
for Mr Whaley*; but I hope you remembered, 
that Daniel f is a damnable poet, and consequently 
a public enemy to mankind. But I despise the 
lords* decree, which is a jest upon common sense; 
for what did it signify to the merits of the cause, 
whether George the old^ or the young, were on the 
throne? .. ' 

No : I intended to pass last winter in England, 
but my health said no : and I did design to live a 
gentleman, and, as?Sancho's wife said, to go in my 
coach to court. I know not whether you are in 
earnest to come hither in spring ; if not, pray Gkxi 
you may never be in jest! Dr Delany shall attend 

Jou at Chester, and your apartment is ready ; and 
have a most excellent chaise, and about sixteen 
dozen of the best cider in the world ; and you shall 
command the town and kingdom, and digito tnou" 
itrari^ &c. And, when I cannot hear, you shall 

* This respects a law-snit between Mr Nathaniel Whalej and 
the Archbishop of Armagh on the one side, and the crown on the 
mother, which depended in the house of lords, on a writ of error, 
and in which the Dean greatUr interested himself. Mr Whaley 
was at length successful. ..Tjhe shape of the question rcsol- 
red into a doubt whether the death of George I. did not abate 
the writ. 

f Richard Daniel, Dean of Armagh, attending as a witness oo 
the issue of the cause. 


have choice of the best people we can afTord, to 
hear you, and nurses enough ; and your apartment 
is on the sunny side. 

The next paragraph strikes me dumb. You say, 
" I am to blame, if I refuse the opportunity of going 
with my Lady Bolingbroke to Aix la Chapelle." I 
must tell you, that a foreign language is mortal to 
a deaf man. I must have good ears to catch up the 
words of so nimble a tongued race as the French, 
having been a dozen years without conversing among 
them. Mr Gay is a scandal to all lusty young 
fellows with healthy countenances ; and, I think, 
he is not intemperate in a physical sense. . I am 
told he has an asthma, which is a disease I com- 
miserate more than deafness, because it will not 
leave a man quiet either sleeping or waking. I 
hope he does not intend to print his opera * before 
it is acted; for I defy all your subscriptions to 
amount to eight hundred pounds. And yet, I 
believe, he lost as much more, for want of human 

I told you some time ago that I Avas dwindled to 
a writer of libels on the lady of the family where I 
lived, and upon myself; but they never went far- 
ther : and my Lady Acheson made me give her up 
all the foul copies, and never gave the fair ones out 
of her hands, or suffered them to be copied. They 
were sometimes shown to intimate friends, to occa- 
sion mirth, and that was all. So that I am vexed 
at your thinking I had any hand in what could come 
to your eyes. I have some confused notion of see- 

* The Second Part of the Beggar's Opera, which was excluded 
from the theatre, by order of the chainberlain. 


ing a paper called Sir Ralph the Patriot * bat am 
sure it was bad or indifferent: and as to the Lady 

* Pope appears to hare thoofht the poem, ao eDtitled, was the 
Dean's prodnctioo, and, notwitkstendiiig Ms disapprokatioo, hu 
some ffUmpse of iiis maimer aad peculiar bumovr. It appmnd 
first in the Conntrj Joornal| 3d Angost 1798) and was tians. 
ferred from thence to the twelfth number of the Intelligencer. 
That the reader maj jodge how fkr Pope's snspicions were jmHj 
eidtad^ we shall Insert the poem. 

rmma HIC Am^ P^tritm. 

** Sir Ralph, a stniple, iml kni|^t. 
Could Just dittiiiaiiiih wrona ftom ligiU; 
Wbeo be reeetf'd a qjMrtert rent. 
And almost balf in taxes went* 
Ife mird at pbees, liHbei, and pensloni^ 
Aad leeret ierYiee» new ioYentioiis; 
Preach op the true, old Eogiirii yvit* 
Aad moorn'd tlie great ne^ect of laerit; 
IjuBonted our fortoni condition. 
And wish'd the coontnr woold petition ; 
Said, be woold first mbsctibe bis name. 
And add, twas a training aliame 
That some men fauge estates ibonld ge^ 
And fiMen on tiie pnUic debt ; 
Of his poor coontnr oig'd his loTe, 
And ihook his bead at those abofe. 

** This coadact, m a private statioa 
Procar'd tlie kni^t ptaH reputation ; 
The neighboars all approT*d hii aesl, 
fThoo|h few men mm, jet4dl bmu ftel) 
And with a aenend fofce dedar'd 
Money was scarce, the times weie hard : 
That what Sir Balph oboenTd was true. 
And wah'd the^iBows had iU due. 

«< Hms blert in popular aflfectioB, 
Behold! there came on an election. 
And who more proper than Sir Ba^^h 
To |uard then* prifih^ges safe ? 
So^ m return for aeal nd beer. 
They chose him Ibr a knight ^ th* Aire. 

" But mark bow diniates chaQM the 
And Tirtoe chopa about hke whid I 
Duly the knight came up to tow% 
Resolf 'd ta poll comptum dowi^ 


Ladrille, I never heard of it. Perhaps it may 
e same with a paper of verses, called << The 

Freqaented dabs of the saoM party. 
And in the cause cootinued bearty, 
Broach'd hii ophnons, wet and dry, ' 
And iEa?e some honest fotet awry. 

** At lengtii, in that old, tpaeioofl conrt, 
Where membera jost at noon resort. 
Up to oar knight. Sir Bloestring came. 
And call*d him frankly by his name, 
Smil'd on liim, shook him by the hmMf, 
And gave him soon to nndentaod, 
That though Us person was a ftraager. 
Yet tiiat in tunes of greatest danger. 
His fiuthful services were known. 
And all his fiimily here in town. 
For whom he had a great affecoon ; 
And wish*d him joy of his election, 
Assur'd him that his coontry's voice 
Conld not have made a better choice. 

'< Sir Ralph, who. if not mncb belied. 
Had always some degrees of pride, 
Perceiv*d his heart begin to swell. 
And lik*d this' doctrine mighty well. 
Took notice of his air and look. 
And how iamiliarly he spoke; 
Such condescensions, such profimons 
Remov*d all former iU impressions. 

** The statesman (who, we most agree. 
Can far into our foibles see. 
And knows exactly how to flatter 
The weak, blind sides of hnman nataie)^ 
Saw the vain wretch begin to yield, 
And farther, thus his oil instdPd. 

** Sir Ralph, said he, all forms apart. 
So dear I hold von at my heart, 
I^ve such a value for your worth. 
Your sense and honour, and so forth, 
That in some points, extremely nice, 
I should be proud oif your adyice; 
Let me, good Sir, the favour pray 
To eat a bit with me to-day ; 
Nay, dear Sir Ralph, yon moat agr e e 
Your honour's hour?— -exactly three. 

** These points premised, they now and part. 
With hands pressed hard to either heart j 
For now the public business calls 
Each patriot to St Stephen's wallt; 
Whether the present debts to state j "% 
Or on some new snupUes debate, > 
Would here be needlCM to relate. j 

L. XVXK a 


Journal of a Dublin Lady/* which I writ at Sir Ar- 
thur Acheson's; and leaving out what concerned 


'< From theDce. at the apfiotnted homv 
The kniglit attencts Uie mtfi of power. 
Who, better to ftecqre hk ends, 
Had likewise bid some coortly firieiida 
His brother, Towo^, and his gnfBtf 
Great statesmen Ixiitfay asd both in pttee : 
Our British Horace fm'd for wit» 
Alike for courts aod senales fit; 
Sh- WiUiani, from his etrly yonth, 
RenownM for honour, vittne, tratfa; 
And Babble, joft reslor'd to fiivonr. 
On pardon ask*d for lale behaviour. 

^ The statesman ipet hii contort goaty 
Sainted, clasp'd him to hii Inroast, 
Then introdn^d him to the rtsL 

** Whilst he with wonder Md wnm. 
The splendour of the honse aorreya. 
Huge China jars, and piles of pJate, 
And modish screens, iad beds of state. 
Gilt sconces, of stupendooa liaef 
And costly pamtings strike his qrcs. 
From Italy and Flanders brought 
At the expence of nations bought ; 
Yet doth not one of these rekOe 
The tragic end of r— — sof state, 
Altfaoujj^ such pictures might suf^ly 
Fit lessons to the great mants eye ; 
But o*ergrown favourites dread to think 
From whence they rose, and how may sink. 

** Dinner now waited on the board. 
Rich as this city would afford, 
(For every element supplies, 
Hn table vrith ito raritica) 
The Kuests promiscuous take their pbue. 
Pro more, without form of grace ; 
There might the little knight be sees 
With ribl^ns blu^ and ribbons green. 
An complaisant and delKmair, 
As if the king himself were there ; 
Obseunious each consults his taste. 
And, begging to be serv'd the last. 
Points round by tnms to every dirii ; 
Will you faa%e soup. So* Kalph, or fish? 
This fiicassee or tfant ragout? 
Pray, Sir, be free, and let me know. 

** The ck>th remov*d» the gfaM goes ronm^ 
With loyal healths and wishes crown*d ; 
May king and senate long ^giee! 
Success attend the miniito 1 


family, I sent it to. be printed in a paper which 
tor Sheridan had engaged in, called, " The In- 

Let public faith and stocky increase ! 
And grant as Heaven! a speedy Peaeel 

*' Disconrse ensues on homebred rage. 
That rank distemf»er of the age, 
And insfontly they all i^ree. 
They never vrere so blest, or free ; 
That all complaiats were Donght but fiictkko, 
And patnotism mere distraction^ 
Though fuU of reason, void of grace. 
And only meant to get in place. 

'* Sir Ralph, in appmbatiob bow*d ; 
Yet own*d that with the giddy crowd, 
He formerly had gone astray. 
And talk' d in <|uite another way, 
PossessM with jealousies and fears, 
Dispers*d by restless Mmphleteen, 
In hbels weekly and diurnal, 
Especially the * Country Joomal ; 
But as be Mi sincete eootri tio% 
He hopM his faults would find remissioo. 

<<^I>ear Sir, repl/d the Blae-strii^ Knight, 
Im glad you think afiairs go right. 
All errors past must be excosHI, 
(Since the best men may be abos*d) 
What's in my power you mav command^ 
Then shook him once more by the band. 
Gave him great hopes (at least his word) 
That he should be a treasury-lord. 
And to confirm his good intention. 
At present order'd him a pension. 

<' By these degrees. Sir Ralph is grown 
The staunchest tool in all the town; 
At points and job-work never finlaj 
At all bis old acqnaititance laila; 
Holds every doctrine now in fiuiliion, 
That debts are blessings to a nation : 
That bribery, under whig direction. 
Is needful to discourage fiiction : 
That standing armies are most fitting 
To gnard the Ubertiea of Britain. 
That F ■ e is her sincerest friend, 
On whom, she always should depend ; 
That ministers, by kings appointed. 
Are, under them, the Lord'k anointed^ 

* From hence it appears that a paper was j^obttriwdioadc^that name, long 
»re this, in which we art at pveMnt engngML** 


telligencer/' of which he made but sorry work, and 
then dropped it. But the verses were printed by 
themselves, and most horridly mangled in the press, 
and were very mediocre in themselves : but did well 
enough in the manner I mentioned, of a family jest. 
I do sincerely assure you, that my frequent old dis- 
order, and the scene where I am, and the humour 
I am in, and some other reasons which time has 
shown, and will show more if I live, have lowered 
my small talents with a vengeance, and cooled my 
disposition to put them in use. I want only to be 
rich, for I am hard to be pleased ; and, for want of 
riches, people grow every day less solicitous to 
please me. Therefore I keep humble company, 
who are happy to come where they can get a bottle 
of wine without paying for it. I give my vicar a 
supper, and his wife a shilling, to play with me an 
hour at backgammon once a-fortnight. To all 

Ergo, it is the self Mine thing, 
'V oppose the minister or king ; 
Ergo, by conseqaence of reason, 
To censure statesmen is hii/h treason. 
In fine, his standing creed is thb : 
That right or wrong, or hit or miss, 
No mischiefB can liefid a nation. 
Under so wise a miniittrBtion ; 
That Britain is Sir Biue-5tring*s debtor, 
And things did sorely ne'er go better ! 

** So the plain country giri, antainted. 
Nor yet with wicked man acqnainted. 
Starts at the, first lewd application. 
Though wann, perhaps, by inclination. 
And swears she would not, with the king, 
For all the world,'do such a thing ; 
But when, with king, assuloous art, 
Damon hath once sH^ncM her heart, 
She learns her lesson m a trice. 
And justifies the pleasing vice. 
Calls it a natural, harmless passion. 
Implanted from our fir^t creation. 
Holds there's no sin betwern dean 8heet% 
And liea with efeiy nao die meetB.** 


people of quality, and especially of titles, I am not 
within i or, at least, am deaf a week or two after I 
am well. But, on Sunday evenings, it costs me 
six bottles of wine to people whom I cannot keep 
out. Pray, come over in April, if it be only to 
convince you that I tell no lies ; and the journey 
will be certainly for your health. Mrs Brent, my 
housekeeper, famous in print for digging out the 
great bottle, says, " she will be yoiir nurse ;" and 
the best physicians we have shall attend you without 
fees ; although, I believe, you will have no occasion 
but to converse with one or two of them, to make 
them proud. Your letter came but last post, and 
you see my punctuality. I am unlucky at every 
thing I send to England. Two bottles of usquebaugh 
were broken. Well, my humble service to my Lord 
Bolingbroke, Lord Bathurst, Lord Masham, and his 
lady my dear friend, and Mr Pulteney, and the 
Doctor, and Mr Lewis, and our sickly friend Gay, 
and my Lady Bolingbroke ; and very much to Patty, 
who, I hope, will learn to love the world less, be- 
fore the world leaves off to love her. I am much 
concerned to hear of my Lord Peterborow being ilL 
I am exceedingly his servant ; and pray God recover 
his heahh ! As for your courlier, Mrs Howard, and 
her mistress, I have nothing to say, but that they 
have neither memory nor manners; else I should 
have some mark of the former from the latter, wbicli 
I was promised about two years ago : but, since I 
made them a present, * it would be mean to remind 
them. I am told poor Mrs Pope is ill. Pray God 

* Of some Irish stuff. The Dean expected a present of ipedals 
from Queen Caroline, which he ncrer recelTed. 


presenre her to you, or rais^ you up as useful a 

This letter is in answer to Mr Ford, whose 
hand I mistook for yours, having not heard from 
him this twelvemonth. Therefore you are not to 
stare ; and it must not be lost, for it talks to you 

Again, forgive my blunders; for, reading the 
letter by candle-light, and not dreaming of a letter 
from Mr Ford, I thought it must be yours, because 
it talks of our friends. 

The letter talks of Gay, and Mr Whaley, and 
Lord Bolingbroke, which made me conclude it 
must be yours; so all the answering part must 
go for nothing. 

Jon. Swift. 


March 10, 1728-9. 

Your time is precious, your curiosity not very 
small, my esteem of you very cn^at : therefore come 
not within the walls of the four courts in hopes of 
hearing a matrimonial decree in this reign ; for on 
Mondj^y, (viz.) that is to say, the 10th of this in- 
stant March 1728, his excellency Thomas Wyndham, 
Esq. lord-high chancellor of Ireland, pronounced, 
after your back was turned, and not with the assist- 
ance of the two chiefs, his decree in the case of 
Stewart v. Stewart, on A. Powell, to this effect : — 
He said there was a full consent till such time as 
the draught of the settlement was sent down to 
Mrs Stewart, to be considered by her and her 

friends ; and after she had considered it, she shall 
not be at liberty to make any objections; for all 
restrictions of marriage are odious in the civil law, 
and not favoured by the common law, especially 
after the age of one-and-twenty ; therefore marry 
they may, and let Mr Nutley * be a lawyer for 
Mrs Rebecca Stewart, the plaintiff, to take care of 
the settlement for her lidvantage, and let PoWell 
choose another lawyer for himself; thdugh, by the 
by, Mr Nutley would serve for both; and it iu 
not necessary to inquire what Powell makes by hift 
practice, although he assured the mother it attiounted 
to one thousand four hundred pounds per annum. 

^^ OYid, 'ds trae, sacoessfullj imparts 
The rnles to steal deluded Tirgins' hearts ; 
But O ! je fair ones, pious Nutlej's ftkill 1 
Instructs jou to elude, by magic bill, > 

The lalYs of God^ and gnitif j your wilU" J 

You will, I hope, excuse this liberty in one, who, 
to resent the indignity offered to you by Ram^s 
coachman, t made him drunk soon after at Gory | 
which so incensed the aforesaid Ram, that he dis^ 
charged him his service, and he is now so reduced, 
that he has no other way of getting his bread but by- 
crying in this city, " Ha' you any dirt to carry out ? 
I am. Sir, your sincere friend and humble servant, 

Francis Gbogbohan. 

iii i i I'l Hi 

• See a letter dated Not. 31, 1713. 

f See the Intelligencer, No. II. The impertiDence consisted 
iii Mr iUnn^s (toachman 4rif log his hoiMi a^bst th^ Disnii, M 
which his master refused to make an adequate apolog^^ and was 
accordingly seyerely censured in the IntoUigeneeff^ 



Ashbrook, Marck 18, 1798-9. 

As I have been honoured with some of your 
letters, and as you are my old acquaintance, though 
to my sorrow not intimately so, I trust you will 
pardon this presumption, rerhaps you may be at 
a loss to guess what title I have to an old acquaint- 
ance with you ; but as several little accidents mdke 
indelible impressions upon the minds of schoolboys, 
near thirty years ago, when I was one, I remember 
I was committed to your care from Sheene to Lon- 
don: we took water at Mortlake, the commander 
of the little skiif was very drunk and insolent, put 
us ashore at Hammersmith, yet insisted, with very 
abusive language, on his fare, which you courage- 
ously refused; the mob gathered; I expected to 
see your gown stripped off, and for want of a 
blanket, to take a flight with you in it, but 

Tom pietate giaTem ac mentis si forte Tirum qoeni 
Conspexere, silent, arr^ctisque miribus astaat : 
Ille regit dictis aDimos, et pectora mulcit. 

ViHG. Mn, u 155. 

If then some graTe and pions man appear 
The) hush their noise, and lend a lisl'ning ear ; 
He soothes with sober words their angry mood, 
And quenches their innate desire of blood. 


By your powerful eloquence you saved your bacon 

• Created Lord Casikdurrow, Oct 27, 1733.~N. 


and money, and we happily proceeded on our 

But it is not an inclination purely to tell 
you this old story, which persuades me to write. 
A friend from Dublin lately obliged me with a very 
entertaining paper, entitled, " The Intelligencer 5" 
it is Number 20, a posthumous work of Nestor 
Ironside ; a correspondent mentioning these papers 
in a letter, raising my curiosity, with the specimen 
I had of them, to read the rest. For my part, I 
have buried myself in the country, and know little 
of the world, but what I learn from newspapers; 
you, who live so much in it, and from other more 
convincing proofs, I am satisfied are acquainted with 
the Intelligencer. I wish his zeal could promote 
the welfare of his poor country, but I fear his la- 
bour is in vain. 

The miseries of the North, as represented, de- 
mand the utmost compassion, and must soften the 
malice of the most bitter enemy. I hope they, 
whose interest it is, if they rightly considered it, 
to relieve those miserable wretches, will redress so 
public a calamity ; to which, if, as I have heard, 
some of the clergy, by exacting of tithes, have 
contributed, they deserve as great censure, as a 
certain dean, who lends several sums without in- 
terest to his poor parishioners, has gained credit 
and honour by his charitable beneficence. Bad 
men, to be sure, have crept in, and are of that 
sacred and learned order; the blackest of crimes, 
forgery, treason, and blasphemy* recently prove 
this : such should be spew<^ out of it with utmost 
contempt, and punished according to their demerit 
with severe justice. If this allegation be true, I 
hope to see them censured by the Intelligencer, 
and recommend to him the words of Jeremiah to 



expatiate upon, chap. x. ver. 31, chap xii. ver. 10^ 
11, I imagine the poor widow, bis printer, * is in 
danger of punishment; she suffered very cruelly 
for the Drapier's works; I hope several contributed 
to ease her misfortunes on that occasion ; I confess I 
am sorry I did not, but if you will give her a piece 
of gold, not in my name I beg, being unwilling to 
vaunt of charity, but as from a friend of yours, I 
shall by the first safe hand send one ; in return I 
expect the Drapier's works entire. 

I am sorry that, for the benefit of the ladies, the 
author has not given us the English of 

Motus doceri gaudet IodIcos 
Matara Tirgo. 

Not having Creech's Horace, a gentleman prevailed 
on me to attempt translating it in a couple of dis* 
tichs; the science, which the compouiul English 
and Greek word signifies, little concerns a widower; 
but I should be glad to see it improved by good 
proficients in the lonick jig. I own, in my little 
reading, I never met with this word, which puts 
me in mind of a passage on the Thames. My 
younger uncle^ the grave Mr Flower, his wife and 
mine, and Parson Dingle, one day made the tour 
of the city : we saw Bedlam, the lions, and wbal 
not; and finished with a view of that noble engine 
under London Bridge: then we took water for 
Whitehall; rowed very silently to opposite the glass- 
house, where a dyer, his boat at anchor, was angling; 
poor Jack unfortunately asked, addressing himself 
to our waterman, << What that man was fishing for ?" 
The wag answered very brisk, " For ■■■ ■ , master, 

* Mrs Harding. 


II you buy any ?" You are a man of too much 
mour not to be pleased with the reply. I never 
% think of it without a laugh ; and am sure need 
t describe the scene to you. He is since called 
our family by the name of Jack Fisher. 


From the Duke of Qaeensberrj's, in Barlingtoft 
Gardens, March 18, 1728.9. 

Dear Sir, ' 

I HAVE writ to you several times ; and having 
ard nothing from you, makes me fear my letters 
* miscarried. Mr Pope's letter has taken off my 
Qcem in some degree ; but I hope good weather 

II entirely re-establish you in your health. I am 
t just recovered from the severest fit of uckness 
it ever any body had who escaped death. I was 
reral times given up by the physicians, and every 
dy that attended me ; and upon my recovery, was 
jged to be in so ill a condition, that I should be 
serable for the remainder of my life j but contrary 
all expectation, I am perfectly recovered, and 

ve no remainder of the distempers that attacked 
3, which were, at the same time, fever, asthma, 
d pleurisy. 1 am now in the Duke of Queens- 
rry's house, and have been so ever since I left 
ampstead ; where I was carried at a time that it 
us thought I could not live a day. Since my 

^ Endorsed^ ^^ See the dncfacss's answer to the royal nes* 



coming to town, I have been very little abroad, the 
weather has been so severe. 

I must acquaint you (because I know it will 
please you,) that during my sickness I had many 
of the kindest proofs of friendship, particularly froBi 
the Duke and Duchess of Queensberry; who, if 
I had been their nearest relation and nearest friend, 
could not have treated me with more constant at- 
tendance then : and they continue the same to me 

You must undoubtedly have heard, that the 
duchess took up my defence with the king and 
queen, in the cause of ipy play, and that she has 
been forbid the court for interesting herself to in- 
crease my fortune, by the publication of it without 
being acted.* The duke too has given up bis 
employment (which he would have done, if the 
duchess had not met with this treatment) upcm ac- 
count of ill usage from the ministers ; but this has- 
tened him in what he had determined. The play 
is now almost printed, with the music, words, and 
bases, engraved on thirty-one copper-plates, which, 
by my friends* assistance, has a possibility to turn 
greatly to my advantage. The Duchess of Marl- 
borough has given me a hundred pounds for one 
copy ; and others have contributed very handsome- 
ly ; but, as my account is not yet settled, I cannot 
tell you particulars. 

* The dachcss was so vehement in her attempts to haVe tlie 
emlMirgo remoTed from Gaj's play, that she offered to read it to 
his n^ajestj in his closet, that he might be satisfied there wai ao 
offence in it. George II. escaped from this dilemma bj sajiagy 
ho should be delighted to recciye her grace in his closet, bit 
hoped to amuse her better than bj the literarj emplojocs^ 
she proposed. 


Por writing in the cause of virtue, and against 
the fashionable vices, I am looked upon at present 
as the most obnoxious person almost in England. 
Mr Pulteney tells me, I have got the start of him. 
Mr Pope tells me, that I am dead, and that this 
obnoxiousness is the reward for my inofTensiveness 
in my former life. I wish I had a book ready to 
send you : but, I believe I shall not be able to com- 
plete the work till the latter end of the next week. 
Your money is still in Lord Bathurst*s hands : but, 
I believe, I shall receive it soon: I wish to re- 
ceive your orders how to dispo'ie of it. I am im- 
patient to finish my work, for I want the country 
air ; not that 1 am ill, but to recover my strength : 
and I cannot leave my work till it is finished. While 
I am writing this, I am in the room next to our 
dining-room, with sheets all around it, and two peo- 
ple from the binder folding sheets. I print the book 
at my own expense, in quarto, which is to be sold 
for six shilling's, with the music. You see I do not 
want industry ; and I hope yon will allow, that I 
have not the worst economy. Mrs Howard has de- 
clared herself strongly, both to the king and queen, 
as my advocate. The Duchess of Queensberry is 
allowed to have shown more spirit, more honour, 
and more goodness, than was thought possible in 
our times ; I should have added too, more under- 
standing and good sense. You see my fortune (as I 
hope my virtue will) increases by oppression. 1 go 
to no courts ; I drink no wine; and am calumniated 
even by ministers of state ; and yet am in good spi- 
rits. Most of the courtiers, though otherwise my 
friends, refused»to contribute to my undertaking. 
But the city and the people of England take my 
part very warmly -, and, I am told^ the best of the 


Citizens will give me proofs of it by their contribu- 

I could talk to you a great deal more, bat I am 
afraid I should write too much for you, and (br 
myself. I have not writ so much together since 
my sickness. I cannot omit telling you, that Dr 
Arbuthnot's attendance and care of me showed him 
the best of friends. Dr Hollins, though entirely a 
stranger to me, was joined with him, and used me 
in the kindest and most handsome manner. Mr 
and Mrs Pulteney were greatly concerned for me, 
visited me, and showed me the strongest proofii of 
friendship. When I see you I will tell jxm of 
others, as of Mr Pope, Mrs Bloun^ Mr and Mr 
RoUinson, Lord and Lady Bolingbroke, &c. I 
think they are all your friends and well-wishers. I 
hope you will love them the better ufpon my ac- 
count ; but do not forget Mr Lewis, nor Lord Ba- 
thurst. Sir WilHam Wyndham, and Lord Gower, 
and Lord Oxford among the number. 

My service to Dr Delany and Mr Stopfort. 


Dnblin, Mvah 10, 1798*0; 

I DENY it. I do write to you according to the 
old stipulation, for, when you kept your old com- 
pany, when I writ to one, I writ to aJl. But I am 

* Found among Mr Gay's papers, and letomed ta Dr Svift 
hj the Dake of Queensberrj and Mr Pope.— P. 



ready to enter into a new bargain since you are got 
into a new world, and will answer all your letters. 
You are first to present my most humble respects to 
the Duchess of Queensberry, and let her know that 
I never dine without thinking of her, although it 
be with some difficulty that I can obey her when I 
dine with fprks that have but two prongSj^ and when 
the sauce is not very consistent. You must likewise 
tell her grace that she is a general toast among all 
honest folks here, and particularly at the deanery, 
even in the face of my whig subjects. I will leave 
my money in Lord Bathurst's hands, and the ma- 
nagement of it (for want of better) in yours: and 
pray keep the interest money in a bag wrapped up 
by itself, for fear of your own fingers under your 
carelessness. Mr Pope talks of you as a perfect 
stranger; but the different pursuits and manners 
and interests of life, as fortune has pleased to di&-^ 
pose them, will never suffer those to live together* 
who by their inclinations ought never to part. 1 
hope, when you are rich enough, you will have 
some little economy of your own in town and coun- 
try, and be able to give your friend a pint of port ; 
for the domestic season of life will come on. I had 
never much hopes of your vamped play, although 
Mr Pope seemed to have, and although it were ever 
so good ; but you should have done like the par- 
sons, and changed your text, I mean your title, and 
the names of the persons. After all, it was an ef^* 
feet of idleness, for you are in the prime of Kfe, whitn 
invention and judgment go together. I wish you 
liad 1001. a-year more for horses — ^I ride and walk 
whenever good weather invites me, and am reputed 
the best walker in this town and five miles round. 
I writ lately to Mr Pope. I wish you had a little 
viUage in his neighbourhood; but you are yel too 


volatile, and any lady with a coach and six horses 
WQuld carry you to Japan. 

Jon. Swift. 


London, March 10, 1728.0. 

This is the second or third time, dear Sir, thai I 
have writ to you without heari ng a word of you, or 
from you ; only, in general, that you are very much 
out of order ; sometimes of your two old complaints, 
the vertigo and deafness, which 1 am very sorry for. 
The gentleman who carries this has come better oflf 
than I did imagine : I used my little interest as far 
as it would go, in his affair. He will be able to 
give you some account of your friends, many of whom 
have been in great distress this winter. John Gay, 
I may say with vanity, owes his life, under God, to 
the unwearied endeavours and care of your humble 
servant ; for a physician who had not been passion- 
ately his friend could not have saved him. I had, 
beside my personal concern for him, other motives 
of my care. He is now become a public person, a 
little Sacheverell ; and I took the same pleasure in 
saving him as Radcliffe did in preserving my Lord 
Chief Justice Holt's wife, whom he attended out of 
spite to the husband, who wished her dead. 

The inoffensive John Gay is now become one of 
the obstructions to the peace of Europe, the terror 
of ministers, the chief author of the Craftsman, and 
all the seditious pamphlets which have been pub- 
lished against the government. He has got several 
turned out of their places^ the greatest ornament 


of the court banished from it for his sake ; * another 
great lady in danger of being chasee likewise ; f 
about seven or eight duchesses pushing forward, 
like the ancient circumcelliones j; in the church, 
who shall suffer martyrdom upon his account first. 
He is the darling of the city. If he should travel 
about the country, he would have hecatombs of 
roasted oxen sacrificed to him. Since he became so 
Conspicuous Will Pulteney hangs his head, to see 
himself so much outdone in the career of glory. I 
hope he will get a good deal of money by printing 
his play ; but, I really believe, he would get more 
by showing his person ^ and I can assure you^ this 
is the very identical John Gay, whom you formerly 
knew, and lodged with in Whitehall two years ago. 
I have been diverting myself with making an ex- 
tract out of a history, which will be printed in the 
year 1948. I wish I had your assistance to go 
through with it ; for I can assure you, it rises to a 
very solemn piece of burlesque. 

As to the condition of your little club, it is not 

?uite so desperate as you might imagine -, for Mr 
bpe is as high in favour, as I am afraid the rest 
are out of it. The king, upon the perusal of the 
last edition of his Dunciad, declared he was a very 
honest man. I did not know till this moment that 
I had so good an opportunity to send you a letter ^ 
and now 1 know it, I am called away, and obliged 
to end with my best wishes and respects, being most 
sincerely yours, &c. 

* Tbe Duchess of Qaeensberry. 

f Mrs Howard perhaps, who declared herself in Gray V favour 
on this momentous occasion. 

X A sect of African heretics, who were smitten with thftiage of 
being martyrs. 




Doblin, March 21, 1728-9. 

You tell me you have not quitted the design of 
collecting, writing, &e. Thb is the answer of eve- 

K sinner who defers iiis repentance. I wish Mr 
>pe were as great an urger as I, who long for no- 
thing more than to see truth under your hands, lay- 
ing all detraction in the dust. I find myself dispos- 
ed every year, or rather every month, to be more 
angry and revengeful ; and my rage is so ignoble, 
that it descends even ta resent the folly and base- 
ness of the enslaved people among whom I live. I 
knew an old lord in Leicestershire who amused him- 
self with mending pitchforks and spades for his te- 
nants gratis. Yet I have higher ideas left,, if I were 
nearer to objects on which I might employ them; 
and contemning my private fortune, would gladly 
cross the channel and stand by while my betters 
were driving the boars out of the garden, if there 
be any probable expectation of such an endea- 
vour. When I was of your age I oftea thought of 
death, but now, after a dozen j^ears more, it is never 
out of my mind, ^nd terrifies me less. I conclude 
that Providence has ordered our fears to decrease 
with our spirits ; and yet I love la bagMielle better 
than ever : for finding it troublesome to read at 
night, and the company here growing tasteless, I 
am always writing bad prose, or worse verses, either 
of rage or raillery, whereof some few escape ta give 
offence, or mirth, and the rest are burnt. 

They print some Irish trash in London, and charge 
it on me, which you will clear me of to my friends^, 
for all are spurious except one paper ; for which 


Mr Pope very lately chid me. I remember your 
lordship used to say, that a few good speakers would 
in time carry any point that was right ; and that thp 
common method of q majority, by calling to the 
<)uestion, would never hold long when reason was 
on the other side. Whether politics do not change, 
like gaming, by the invention of new tricks, I am 
ignorant : but I believe in your time you would ne- 
ver, as a minister, have suffered an act to pass 
through the House of Commons, only because you 
v^rere sure of a majority in the House of Lords, to. 
throw it out; because it would be unpopular, and 
consequently a loss of reputation. Yet this, we are 
told, has been the case in the qualification bill re- 
lating to pensioners. It should seem to me that 
corruption, like avarice, has no bounds. I had op- 
portunities to know the proceedings of your minis- 
try better than any other man of my rank ; and hav- 
ing not much to do, I have often compared it with 
these last sixteen years of a profound peace all over 
Europe, and we running .seven millions in debt. 
I^m forced to play at small game, to set the beasts 
here a-madding, merely for want of a better game. 
Tentanda via est qua me quoque possim^ * &c. The 
devil take those politics, where a dunce might go- 
vern for a dozen years together. I will come in 
person to England, if I am provoked, and send for 
the dictator from the plough. I disdain to say, O 
mihi prateriios — but cruda deo viridhque senectus.'\ 

* *' New wayi I must attempt, my grov^llint; nnmd 
To raise aioft, and vting my fligtit to fdme." — S. 

t ** O conid I turn to that fair prime again ! 
— — — yet in his years are seen 
A manly vigour, aivl autumnal green,** — S. 


Pray my lord how are the gardens ? have you taken 
down the mount, and removed the yew hedges? 
have you not bad weather for the spring com ? has 
Mr Pope gone farther in his ethic poems ? and is 
the head-land sown with wheat ? and what says Po- 
lybius ? and how does my Lord St John ? which 
last question is very material to me, because I love 
burgundy j and riding between Twickenham and 
Dawley. I built a wail five years ago, and when 
the masons played the knaves, nothing delighted me 
so much as to stand by while my servants threw 
down what was amiss. I have likewise seen a m6n- 
key overthrow all the dishes and plates in a kitchen, 
merely for the pleasure of seeing them tumble,^ and 
hearing the clatter they made in their fall. I wish 
you would invite me to such another entertainment; 
but you think as I ought to think, that it is time for 
me to have done with the world ; and so I would, 
if I could get into a better, before 1 was called into 
the best, and not die here in a rage, like a poisoned 
rat in a hole. 1 wonder you are not ashamed to 
let me pine away in this kingdom, while you are 
out of power. 

I come from looking over the melange above 
written, and declare it to be a true copy of my 
present disposition, which must needs please you, 
since nothing was ever more displeasing to myself. 
I desire you to present my most humble respects to 
my lady. 

Jon. Swift. 



Chilad, March 29, 1729. 

Friend Jonathan Swift, 
Having been often agreeably amused by thy 
Tale, &c. &c. and being now loading a small ship 
for Dublin, I have sent thee a gammon, the product 
of the wilds of America ; which perhaps may not 
be unacceptable at thy table, since it is only de- 
signed to let thee know that thy wit and parts are 
here in esteem at this distance from the place of 
thy residence. Thou needest ask no questions who 
this comes from, since I am a perfect stranger to 


[March 80, 1729.] 


I AM a Huckster and Lives in Strand Street & 
has Dealings with Several familys, a saterday Night 
a Case of Instruments t was sent ine in pawn by a 
Certain person in Marys Strp^Bt, lor two Rowls a 
print of Butter four Herrings and t^ree Nagins of 
strong Watters, My foster brother who ply's about 
the End of the town fells Me, he wanst saw it in 

* Thus endorsed by Dr Swift ; ^< The be9t letter I erer lend." 
— D. S. 

f It is not unlikely this was a present of a a^ of instrumentf 
from Lady Johnson to the Doctor.— D. S. 


your hand, fearing Hawkins's* whip I send it to 
you, and will take an Other Course to gett My 
Money, so I Remain your Hon" 

Humble Sarv' to Command 
y* 30 Martha Sharp. 


Dubfin, April 5j 1729. 

I DO not think it could be possible for me to hear 
better news than that of your getting over your 
scurvy suit, which always hung as a dead weight on 
my heart ; I hated it in all its circumstances, as it 
affected your fortune and quiet, and in a situation 
of life that must make it every way vexatious. And 
as I am infinitely obliged to you for the justice you 
do me in supposing your affairs do at least concern 
me as much as my own ; so I would neVer have 
pardoned your omitting it. But before I go on, I 
cannot forbear mentioning what I read last summer 
in a newspaper, that you were WTiting the history 
of your own times. I suppose such a report might 
arise from what was not secret among your friends, 
of your intention to write another kind of history j 
which you often promised Mr Pope and me to do : 
I know he desires it very much, and I am sure I 
desire nothing more for the honour and love I bear 
you, and the perfect knowledge I have of your pub- 
lic virtue. My lord, I have no other notion of eco- 
nomy than that is the parent of liberty and ease, 
and I am not the only friend you have who has chid 
you in his heart for the neglect of it, though not 

* Hawkins was keeper of Newgate.«—D. & 


with his mouth, as I have done. For there is a sil- 
ly error in the world, even among friends otherwise 
very good, not to intermeddle with men*s affairs in 
such nice matters. And my lord, I have made a 
maxim^ that should be writ in letters of diamonds, 
that a wise man ought to have money in his head, 
but not in his heart. Pray, my lord, inquire whe- 
ther your prototype, my Lord Digby, after the re- 
storation, when he was at Bristol, did not take some 
care of his fortune, notwithstanding that quotation 
I once sent you out of his speech to the House of 
Commons ? In my conscience, I believe fortune, 
like other drabs, values a man gradually less for 
every year he lives. I have demonstration for it ; 
because if I play at piquet for sixpence with a man 
or woman two years younger than piyself, I always 
lose ; and there is a young girl of twenty who ne- 
ver fails of winning my money at backgammon, 
though she is a bungler, and the game be ecclesi- 
astic. As to the public, I confess nothing could 
cure my itch of meddling with it but these frequent 
returns of deafness, which have hindered me from 
passing last winter in London ; yet I cannot but 
consider the perfidiousness of some people, who, 
I thought, when I was last there, upon a change 
that happened, were the most impudent in forget- 
ting their professions that I have ever known. Pray 
will you please to take your pen, and blot me out 
that political maxim from whatever book it is in, 
that lies nolunt diu male administrari ; the com- 
monness makes me not know who is the author, but 
mre he must be some modem. * 

* Upon this adage, Bolingbroke was wont to justifj his ex. 
pectations of a change of adminiBtration. 


I am sorry for Lady Bolingbroke's ill health ; but 
I protest I never knew a very deserving person of 
that sex, who had not too much reason to complain 
of ill health. 1 never wake without findiog life a 
more insignificant thing than it was the day before ; 
which is one great advantage I get by living in this 
country, where there is nothing 1 shall be sorry to 
lose. But my greatest misery is recollecting the 
scene of twenty years past, and then all on a sud- 
den dropping into the present. I remember, when 
I was a little boy, I felt a great fish at the end of 
my line which I drew up almost on the ground, but 
it dropped in, and the disappointment vexes me to 
this very day, and I believe it was the type of all 
my future disappointments. I should be ashamed 
to say this to you, if you had not a spirit fitter to 
bear your own misfortunes, than I have to think of 
them. Is there patience left to reflect, by what 
qualities wealth and greatness are got, and by what 
qualities they are lost ? I have read my friend Con- 
greve's verses to Lord Cobham, which end with a 
vile and false moral, and I remember is not in Ho- 
race to Tibullus, which he imitates; ** that all 
times are equally virtuous and vicious:" wherein 
he differs from all poets, philosophers, and Christians 
that ever writ. It is more probable that there may 
be an equal quantity of virtues always in the world, 
but sometimes there may be a peck of it in Asia, 
and hardly a thimbleful in Europe. But if there 
be no virtue, there is abundance of sincerity; for I 
will venture all I am worth, that there is not one 
human creature in power, who will not be modest 
enough to confess that he proceeds wholly upon a 
principle of corruption : I say this because I have a 
scheme, in spite of your notions, to govern England 
upon the principles of virtue^ and when the nation 


is ripe for it, I desire you will .send for me. I have 
learned this by living like a, hermit, by which I am 
got backward about nineteen hundred years in the 
era of the world, and begin to wonder at the wick- 
edness of men. I dine alone upon half a dish of 
meat, mix water with my wine, walk ten miles a 
day, and read Baronius. Hie explicit epistola ad 
dom. Bolingbroke, ^ incipit ad^amicum Pope. 

Having finished my letter to Aristippus, I now 
begin to you. I was in great pain about Mrs Pope, 
having heard from others that she was in a very 
dangerous way, which made me think it unsea- 
sonable to trouble you. I am ashamed to tell you, 
that when I was very young I had more desire to be 
famous than ever since ; and fame, like all things 
else in this life, grows with me every day more a 
trifle. But you who are so much jrounger, although, 
you want that health you deserve, yet your spirits 
are as vigorous as if your body were sounder. I 
hate a crowd where I have not an easy place to see 
and be seen. A great library always makes m^ 
melancholy,^ where the best author is as much 
squeezed, and as obscure, as a porter at a coro- 
nation. In my own little library, I value the com- 
pilements of Grsevius and Gronovius, which make 
thirty-one volumes in folio (and were given me by 
my Lord Bolingbroke), more than all my books be* 
sides ; because whoever comes into my closet, casts 
his eyes immediately upon them, and will not vouch- 
safe to look upon Plato or Xenophon. I tell you 
it is almost incredible how opinions change by the 

^ In Montesquieu's Persian Letters^ there is an admirable one 
«pon tills snbjecto— Dr Warton. 


decline or decay of spirits, and I will farther tell you, 
that all my endeavours, from a boy, to distinguish my- 
self, were only for want of a great title and fortune, 
that I might be used like a lord by those who have 
an opinion of my parts ; whether right or wrong, it 
is no great matter ; and so the reputation of wit or 
great learning does the office of a blue ribband, or 
of a coach and six horses. To be remembered for 
ever on the account of our friendship, is what would 
exceedingly please me ; but yet I never loved to 
make a visit, or be seen walking with my betters, 
because they get all the eyes and civilities from me. 
I no sooner writ this than I corrected myself, and 
remembered Sir Fulk Grevil's epitaph, ** Here lies, 
&c. who was friend to Sir Philip Sidney.** And 
therefore I must heartily thank you for your desire 
that I would record our friendship in verse, which 
if I can succeed in, I will never desire to write one 
more line in poetry while I live. You must present 
my humble service to Mrs Pope, and let her know 
I pray for her continuance in the world, for her own 
reason, that she may live to take care of you. 

JoNATH, Swift. 


LondoD, April 10, 1739. 
One of the greatest pleasures 1 proposed to my- 
self in a journey to England, was that of seeing you 
at London ; and it is a very sensible mortification 
to me to find myself disappointed in so agreeable 
an expectation. It is now many years since I had 
the highest esteem of your genius and writings j 


and when I was very young, I found in some of 
them ^ certain ideas, that prepared me for relishing 
those principles. of universal religion, which I have 
since endeilvoured to unfold in Cyrus. I could not 
let our common friend Mr Leslie f go back to Ire- 
land, without seizing the opportunity of acknow* 
iedging the obliging zeal you have shown to make 
my work esteemed. Such marks of friendship do 
me a great deal of honour as well as pleasure, and I 
hope I have a thorough sense of them. As I liave 
much enlarged my book, I am going to publish a 
new edition by subscription. I have given a hua« 
dred copies of the proposals to our friend, and flat- 
ter myself, that I may count upon the continuation 
of your friendship. • ' 

I am, with .great respect. Sir, 

your most obliged 

and most obedient humble servant, 

A. Ramsay. 


London, Ma J 8, 1720. 

Dear Sir, 
I HAVE writ three times to Mr Dean of St Pa- 
trick's, without receiving so much as an acknow- 
ledgment of the receipt of my letters. At the same 
time, I hear of other letters, which his acquaint- 
ances receive from him. I believe I should hardly 

♦ In the Tale of a Tub probably. 

f Son of the Keferend Dr Charles Leslie, the famous nonjiu 
roTt^v^H* • * 


have brought myself to have written this^ were it 
not to serve you and a frieiid at the same time. 

I . recommended one Mr Mason, son of Mason, 
gentleman of the queen*s chapel, a barytone voice, 
for the vacancy of a siuger in your cathedral. This 
letter was writ from Bath last September. The siune 
Mason informs me, that there is another vacancy : 
therefore I renew my request. I believe you will 
hardly get a better : he has a pleasant mellow voice, 
and has sung several tipaes in the king's chapel this 
winter, to the satisfaction of the audience. I beg 
at least your answer to this. Your friends in town, 
such as I know, are welL Mr Pope is happy again, 
in having his mother recovered. Mr Gay is gone' 
to Scotland with the Duke of Cli|eensberry. He has 
about twenty taw«suits with booksellers for pirating 
his book. The king goes soon to Hanover. These 
are all the news I know. I hope you do not ima- 
gine I am so little concerned about your health, as 
not to desire to be informed of the state of it from 
yourself. I have been tolerably wel{ th{s winter, I 
thank God. My brother Robin is here, tiud longs, 
as well as I, to know how you do. This with my 
best wishes and respects, from, dear Sir, 

Your most faithful bumble servant, 

Jo. Arbuthkot. 


London, June 9, 1799. 

Dear Sir, 
This is given you by Mr Mason, whom I believe 
you will find answer the character I gave of him, 


vhich really was not partial ; for I am not so much 
IS acquainted with his father or himself. I explain- 
ed every thing to him according to the tenor of the 
etter which I received from you some time ago, 
ind for which I most heartily thank you. Let him 
aow speak for himself. I have been inquiring about 
St counter-tenor ; but have, as yet, no intdligence 
of any. 

I am really sensibly touched with the account you 
give of Ireland. It is not quite so bad here, bat 
really bad enough : at the same time, we are told, 
that we are in great plenty and iiappiness. 

Your friends, whom you mention in yours, are 
well. Mr Gay is returned from Scotland, and has 
recovered his strength by his journey. Mr Pope 
is well ; he had got an injunction in chancery 
against the printers, who haa pirated his Dunciad : 
it was dissolved again, because the printer could not 
prove any property, nor did the author appear. 
That is not Mr Gay's case : for he has owned his 
book. Mr Pulteney gives vou his service. They 
are all better than myself: for I am now so bad of 
a constant convulsion in my heart, that I am likely 
to expire sometimes. We have no news that I 
know of. I am ^pt to believe that, in a little time^ 
this matter of the provisional treaty will be on or 
off. The young man waits for my letter. I shall 
trouble you no more at present, but remain with 
my best wishes, and most sincere affection^ 

dear Sir, 
Your most faithful humble servant, 

J. Akbuthnot. 

My family all send you their love and service. 



CMiea, Jane 11, 1729? 

I RECEIVED the favour of your letter the 32d of 
May, and own my obligation to Mr Dean for the 
information of the decay of my grandfather's monu- 
ment f in the cathedral church of St Patrick. 

Mr French, the present receiver of my father's 
estate, will b6, some time next month, in that king- 
dom, whom I have ordered to wait upon you for 
your direction in that affair; in which, when be 
has informed me of the expence, I shall immediate- 
ly give directions to have it done, agreeably to the 
desire of the Dean and chapter, as well as the duty 
due to the memory of iny grandfather, without ad- 
ding farther trouble to Mr Dean, from his most hum- 
ble and obedient servant, 

Catharine Jones. 


August II, 17^. 

I am voiy sensible that in a former letter I talked 
very weakly of my own affairs, and of my imperfect 
wishes and desires, which however I find with some 

* Daughter of Richard Earl of Ranelagh, who died 9d Jm- 
ary 1711. 

f A monument erected to the memory of Archbishop JoiMSy 
tnd his SOD, Lord Viscount Ranelagh. 


tomfort do now daily decline, very suitably to my 
state of health for some months past. For my heail^ 
is never perfectly free from giddiness, and especially 
toward night. Yet my disorder is very moderate, 
and I have been without a fit of deafness this half 
year ; so I am like a horse, which, though off his 
mettle, can trot on tolerably ; and this comparison 
puts me in mind to add that I am returned to be a 
rider, wherein I wish you would imitate me. As 
to this country, * there have been three terrible 
years dearth ot corn, and every place strewed with 
beggars; but dearths are common in better climates, 
and our evils here lie much deeper. Imagine a 
nation, the two thirds of whose revenues are spent 
out of it, and who are not permitted to trade with 
the other third, and where the pride of women will 
not suffer them to wear their own manufactures, 
even where they excel what come from abroad : 
this is the true state of Ireland in a very few words^ 
These evils operate more every day, and the king-* 
dom is absolutely undone, as I have been telling 
often in print these ten years past, f 

* There arc many acute and new obseryations on the state of 
Ireland in Berkeley's ^^ Querist," by which he appears to be as 
graat a patriot and politician as in his other works he ia a phi- 
losopher and tfi^ine.— Wakton. 

f The following passage, in the sixth number of the Intelligent 
cer, upon this melancholy subject, bears marks of the D^q*s 

^^ As for ray own part, I confess, that the sights and occur, 
fences which 1 had in this my last journey, have so far trans., 
ported me to a mixture of rage and compassion, that I am not 
able to decide, which has the greater influence upon my spirits ; 
for this new cant of a rich and flourishing nation was still up- 
permost in my thoughts ; every Hiile I trarelled giving mc such 
ample demonstrations to the contrary. For this reason, I have 


What I have said requires forgiveness, bat I kud 
wnind for once to let you kuoMT the i^tate of our 

lioen at the patos to reader a most exact and faithful account of 
ail the Tuible signs of riches, which I met with in sixtj milefy 
riding through the most public roads, and the beat part of the 
kingdom. First, As to trade, I met nine cars loadea with old 
mostj shriTellod hides, one car load of batter; four jockeys 
driTing eight horses, all out of .case ; one cow and calf, driveQ 
bj a roan and his wife ; six tattered families flitting, to be shipped 
off to the liVest Indies ; a colony of a hundred and fifty befgafft^' 
all repairing to people our metropolis, and, by incroarin^ tlitf 
number of hands, to increase its wealth, upon the old maxima 
that people are the riches of a nation : And therefore, ten thoo* 
sand mouths with hardly ten pair of hands, or any work to em« 
ploy them, will infallibly nuke us a rich and fl'ourishiiig peoplcb 
Secondly, TraTellers enough, but seTen in ten wanting shirta and 
craTats; nine in ten going barefoot, and carrying their. brogMS 
and stockings in their hands ; one woman in twenty haring a 
pillion, the rest riding bare-backed ; aboTe two hundred horse* 
men, with four pair of boots amongst them all ; seTeoteea tad* 
dies of leather (the rest being made of straw,) and most <tf their 
garrons only shod before. 1 went into one of the principal far« 
mer's houses, out of curiosity, and his whole furniture consisted 
of two blocks for stools, a bench on each side the fire-place made 
of turf, six trenchers, one bowl, a pot, six horn-spoons, three 
noggins, three blankets, one of which serred the man and maid 
serTant ; the other the master of the family, bis wife and fift 
children ; a small chum, a wooden candlestick, a brokeo stick 
for a pair of tongs. In the public towns, one third of the inha* 
bitants walking the street barefoot ; windows half built up with 
stone to save the ex pence of glass ; the broken panes up aad 
down supplied by brown paper, few being able to afford white ; 
in some places they were stopped with straw dr hay. Another 
mark of our riches, are the signs at the scTcral inns upon the 
road, Tiz. in some a staff stuck in the thatch, with a turf at the 
end of it : a staff in a dunghill with a white rag wrapped aboat 
the head ; a pole, where they can afford it, with a beaom at the 
top ; an oatmeal cake on a board in a window ; and at the prip* 
cipal inns of the road, 1 have obserTcd the signs taken down and 
laid against the wail near the door, being taken from their post 
to prerent the shaking of the house down by the wind. In short, 


affairs, and my reason for being more moved than 
perhaps becomes a clergyman, and a piece of a 
philosopher : and perhaps the increase ofyears and" 
disorders may hope for some allowance to com* 
plaints, especially when I may call myself a stran- 
ger in a strange land. As to poor Mrs Pope (if she 
be still alive) I heartily pity you and pity her : her 
great piety and virtue will infallibly make her hap- 
py in a better life, and her great age has made her 
fully ripe for Heaven and the graVe, and her best 
friends will most wish her eased of her labours» 
when she has so many good works to follow them. 
The loss you will feel by the want of her care and 
kindness, I know very well : but she has amply 
done her part, as you have yours. One reason why 
I would have you in Ireland when you shall be at 
your own disposal, is, that you may be master of 
two or three years revenues, proviso frugis in annos 
copia, so as not to be pinched in the least when 
years increase, and perhaps your health impairs: 
and when this kingdom is utterly at an end, you 
may support me for the few years [ shall happen to 
live ; and who knows but you may pay me ex- 
orbitant interest for the spoonful of wine, and scraps 
of a chicken it will cost me to feed you ? I am con- 
fident you have too much reason to complain of in- 
gratitude; for I never yet knew any person, one 
tenth part so heartily disposed as you are, to do good 
offices to others, without the least private view. 

Was it a gasconade to please me, that you said 
yoqr fortune was increased 1001. a-year since I left 

I saw not oae single house in the best towi| J. trayelled throogh, 
which had not manifest appearances of beggary and Mrant I could 
gife many more instances of our wealth, bat I hope these wi|^ 
suffice for the end I propose." 


390 Mpistolaey corhespondbncb. 

you ? you should have told me how. Those smbttr 
dia senectuti are extremely d esirableif they coald 
be got with justice^ and without avarice ; of which 
vice, though I capnot charge myself yet, nor feel 
any approaches toward it, yet no usurer more wishes 
to be richer, or rather to be surer of his rents. But 
I am not half so moderate as you, for I declare I 
cannot live easily under double to what you are sa* 
tisfied with. 

I hdpe Mr Gay will keep his SOOOL and live on 
th« interest without decreasing the principal one 

rmny ; but I do not like your seldom seeing him. 
hope he is grown more disengaged 'from his in* 
tentness on his own affairs, which I ever disliked, 
and is quite the reverse to you, unless you are a 
very dextrous disguiser. I desire my humble ser- 
vice to Lord Oxford, Lord Bathurst, and particular- 
ly to Mrs Blount, but to no lady at court God 
bless you for being a greater dupe than I : I love 
that character too myself, but want your charity. 

Jon. Swift. 


Aix-UuChapdle, Aog.'SO, 1739, N. 8. 

I TOOK a letter of yours from Pope, and brought 
it to this place, that I might answer at least a part 
of it. I begin to-day ^ when I shall finish I know 
not ; perhaps when I get back to my farm. The 
waters I have been persuaded to drink, and those 
which my friends drmk, keep me fuddled or em- 
ployed all the morning. The afternoons are spent 


in airings or visits, and we go to bed with the 

Brussels, Sept. %ly N. S* 

I have brought your French acquaintance * thus 
far on her way into her own country, and consi- 
derably better in heahh than she was when she went 
to Aix. ' I begin to entertain hopes that she will 
recover such a degree of health as may render old 
age -supportable. Both of us have closed the tenth 
lustre, and it is high time to determine how we shall 
, play the last act of the farce. Might not my life 
be entitled much more properly a what-d'ye-call-it 
than a farce ? f Some comedy, a great deal of tra- 
gedy, and the whole interspersed with scenes of 
Harlequin, Scaramouch, and Dr Baloardo, the pro- 
totype of your hero Oxford. I used to think some- 
times formerly of old age and of death ; enough to 
prepare my mind ; not enough to anticipate sorrow, 
to dash the joys of youth, and to be all my life a- 
dying. I find the benefit pf this practice now, and 
shall find it more as I proceed on my journey ; lit- 
tle regret when I look backward, little apprehen- 
sion when I look forward. You complain griev- 

* Lddj Bolingbroke. — N. 

\ Bolingbroke is reported vti a letter to Pouillj to hare said, 
^^ You, and I, and Pope, are the onlj three men fit to reign," 
Voltaire, in the 12th rolume of liis letters, denies this anecdote ; 
and adds, ^^ J'aime mieux ce que disait a ses compagnons la plus 
fameuse catin de Londres : mes sceurs, Bolingbroke e^i dechire 
aujourdhni secretaire d'etat ; sept mille guinees de rente, mes 
sceurs ; et tout pour nous !*' It appears by Voltaire's Letters, 
Vol. I. p. 13, that in the year 1722, he was at U Source, near 
Orfeans, with Lord Bolingbroke ; to whom he communicated the 
first sketches of the lienriade, and received from him the highest 
commendations.— Dr Warton. 


ously of your situation in Ireland. I could com- 
plain of mine too in England : but I will not, nay» 
I ought not; for I find, by long experience, that 1 
can be unfortunate, without being unhappy. I do 
not approve your joining together the figure of liv- 
ing, and the pleasure of giving, though your old 
prating friend Montaigne * does something like it 
in one of his rhapsodies : to tell you my reasons 
would be to write an essay, and I shall hardly have 
time to write a letter ; but, if you will come over 
and live with Pope and me, I will shpw you in an 
instant why those two things should not alUr de 
patTy and that forced retrenchments on both may 
be made, without making us uneasy. Yon know 
that I am too expensive, and all mankind knows 
that I have been cruelly plundered ; and yet I feel 
in my mind the power of descending, without an- 
xiety, two or three stages more. In short, Mr Dean, 
if you will come to a certain farm in Middlesex, t 
you shall find that 1 can live frugally without growl- 
ing at the world, or being peevish with those whom 
fortune has appointed to eat my bread, instead of 
appointing me to eat theirs ; and yet i have natu- 
rally as little disposition to frugality as any man 
alive. You say you are no philosopher, and I think 
you are in the right to dislike a word which is so 
often abused ; but I am sure you like to follow rea- 
sop, not custom (which is sometimes the reason, 
and oftener the caprice of others, of the mob of the 
world.) Now, to be sure of doing this, you must 
wear your philosophical spectacles as constantly as 
the Spaniards used to wear theirs. You must make 

* Yet there are few writers that give us such aa insight iDto 
haman aatuie a^ this old prater.— Dr Warton. 
f Dawley, the residence of Lord Bolingbroke. 


them part of your dress, and sooner part with your 
broad-brimmed beaver, your gown, scarf, or even 
that emblematical vestment your surplice. Through 
this medium you will see few things to be vexed at, 
few persons to be angry ati 

Ofltend, Oct. 5. 

And yet there will frequently be things which 
we ought to wish altered, and persons whom we 
ought to wish hslnged. Since I am likely to wait 
here for a wind, I shall have leisure to talk with you 
more than you will like perhaps. If that should be 
so, you will never tell it me grossly ; and my vanity 
will secure me against taking a hint. 

In your letter to Pope, you agree that a regard 
for fame becomes a man more towards his exiij than 
at his entrance into life ; and yet you confess that 
the longer you live, the more you grow indifferent 
about it. Your sentiment is true and natural ; your 
reasoning, I am afraid, is not so upon this occasion. 
Prudence will make us desire fame, because it gives 
us many real and great advantages in all the affairs 
of life. Fame is the wise mans means; his ends 
are his own good, and the good of society. Your 
poets and orators have inverted this order; you pro- 
pose fame as the end : and good, or at least great 
actions, as the means. You go farther : you teach 
our self-love to anticipate, the applause which we 
suppose will be paid b^ posterity to our names; 
and with idle notions of immortality you turn other 
heads beside your own : I am afraid this may have 
done some harm in the world. 

Calais, Oct 9. 

T go on from this place, whither I am come in 



hopes of getting to sea, which I could not do from 
the port of Ostend. 

Fame is an object which men pursue succes^uUy 
by various and even contrary courses. Your doctrine 
leads them to look on this end as essential, and on 
the means as indiflferent ; so that Fabricius and 
Crassus, Cato and Csesar, pressed forward to the 
same goal. After all, perhaps, it may appear, 
from a consideration of the depravity of mankind, 
that you could do no better, nor keep up virtue in 
the world without calling this passion, or this di* 
rection of self-love, into your aid. Tacitus has 
crowded this excuse for you, according to his 
manner, into a maxim, Caniempiu -faviuB contemm 
virtutes. But now, whether we consider fame as 
a useful instrument in all the occurrences of private 
and public life, or whether we consider it as the 
cause of that pleasure which our self-love is so fond 
of, methinks our entrance into life, or, to speak 
more properly, our youth, not our old age, is the 
season when we ought to desire it most, and there- 
fore when it is most becoming to desire it with 
ardour. If it is useful it is to be desired most when 
we have, or may hope to have, a long scene 'of 
action open before us ; toward our exit, this scene 
of action is, or should be closed ; and then me- 
thinks it is unbecoming to grow fonder of a thing 
which we have no longer occasion for. If it is 
pleasant, the sooner we are in possession of fame, 
the longer we shall enjoy this pleasure; when it is 
acquired early in life, it may tickle us on till old 
age ; but when it is acquired late, the sensation of 
pleasure will be more faint, and mingled with the 
regret of our not having tasted it sooner. 


From my Farm, Oct. 5. O. S. 

I am here ; I have seen Pope, and one of my 
first inquiries was after you. He tells me a thing I 
lim sorry to hear: you are building, it seems, on a 
piece of land you have acquired for that purpose, in 
some county of Ireland. * Though I have built in 
a part of the world which I prefer very little tp 
that where you have been thrown and confined by 
our ill fortune and yours, yet I am sorry you do 
the same thing. I have repented a thousand time$ 
of my resolution ; and I hope you will repent of 
yours before it is executed. Pope tells me he has 
a letter of yours, which I have not seen yet. I 
shall have that satisfaction shortly; and shall be 
tempted to scribble to you again, which is another 
good reason for making this epistle no longer than it 
is already. Adieu, therefore, my old and worthy 
friend* May the physical evils of life fall as easily 
upon you as ever they did on any man who lived 
to be old ! and may the moral evils which surround 
us make as little impression on you, as they ought 
to make on one who has such superior sense to 
estimate things by, and so much virtue to wrap 
himself up in ! 

My wife desires not to be forgotten by you ; she 
is faithfully your servant, and zealously your ad- 
mirer* She will be concerned, and disappoints^ 
not to find you in this island at her return; which 
hope both she and I had been made to eatertain 
before I went abroad. 

ii^n*— *^ m n» ' 

* Dnpier*s Hill, where, the Jk%u entertain^ IpmQ t|ioii{)it8 (ft 



Oct 0, 1729. 

It pleases me that you received my books at last : 
but you have never once told me if you approve of 
the whole or disapprove not of some parts, of the 
commentary, &c. It was my principal aim in the 
entire work to perpetuate the friendship between 
us, and to show that the friends or the enemies of 
one were the friends or enemies of the other : if lu 
any particular, any thing be stated or mentioned in 
a different manner from what you like, pray tell 
me freely, that the new editions now coming out 
here may have it rectified. You will find the 
octavo rather more correct than the quarto, with 
some additions to the notes and epigrams cast in, 
which I wish had been increased by your ac- 
quaintance in Ireland. I rejoice in hearing that 
Drapier's Hill is to emulate Parnassus ; I fear the 
country about it is as much impoverished. I truly 
share in all that troubles you, and wish you re- 
moved from a scene of distress, which I know 
works your compassionate temper too strongly. 
But if we are not to see you here, I believe I shall 
once in my life see you there. You think more for 
me, wd about me, than any friend I have, and 
you think better for me. Perhaps you will not be 
contented, though I am, that the additional lOOl. 
a-year is only for my life. My mother is yet living, 
and I thank God for it : she will never be trouble- 
sotne to me, if she be not so to herself : but a me- 
lancholv object it is, to observe the gradual decays 
both of body and mind, in a person to whom one 


IS tied by the links of both. I cannot tell whether 
her death itself would be so afflicting. 

You are too careful of my worldly affairs ; I am 
rich enough, and I can afford to give away 1001. a- 
year. Do not be angry ; I will not live to be very 
old. I have revelations to the contrary. I would 
not crawl upon the earth without doing a little good 
when I have a mind to do it: I will enjoy the plea- 
sure of what I give, by giving it, alive, and seeing 
another enjoy it. When I die, I should be ashamed 
to leave enough to build me a monument, if there 
were a wanting friend above ground. 

Mr Gay assures me his 30001. is kept entire and 
sacred; he seems to languish after a line from you, 
and complains tenderly. Lord Bolingbroke has told 
me ten times over he was going to write to you. 
Has he or not? The Doctor * is unalterable, both 
in friendship and quadrille : his wife has been very 
near death last week: his two brothers buried their 
wives within these six weeks. Gay is sixty miles 
off, and has been so all this summer, with the Duke 
dnd Duchess of Queensberry. He is the same 
man : so is every one here that you know: mankind 
is unamendable. Optimus tile qui minimis urgetur. 
Poor Mrs is like the rest, she cries at the thorn in 
her foot, but will suffer nobody to pull it out. The 
court lady f I have a good opinion of, yet I have 
treated her more negligently than you would do, 
because you like to see the inside of a court, which 
I do not. I have seen her but twice. You have a 

* Arbuthnot. 

f Mrs Howard. The subsequent allusion seems to be to ihe 
Dean's character of that ladj, which contained some strong shades 
of satire* 




desperate hand at dashing out a character bjr great 
strokes, and at the same time a delicate one at fine 
touches. God forbid you should draw mine, if I 
were conscious of an j guilt : but if I were conscious 
only of folly, God send it ! for as nobody can de* 
tect a great fault so well as you, nobody would so 
well hide a small one. But after all, that lady 
means to do good, and does no harm, which is a 
yast deal for a courtier. I can assure you that 
Lord Peterborow always speaks kindly of you, and 
certainly has as great a mind to be your friend as 
any one. I must throw away my pen : it cannot, 
it will never tell you, what I inwaitlly am to yoiL 
Quod nequeo manstrarej et seniio Ionium. 


Oct. 31, 1729. 

You were so careful of sending me the Dnnciad/ 
that I have received five of them, and have pleased 
four friends. I am one of every body who approve 
every part of it, text and comment ; but am one 
abstracted from every body, in the ha|lpiness of 
being recorded your friend, while wit ai^ humour, 
and politeness, shall have any memorial among us. 
As for your octavo edition we know nothing of it, for 
we have an octavo of our own, which has sold won* 
derfully, considering our poverty, and dulness the 
consequence of it 

I writ this post to Lord Bolingbroke, and tell him 
in my letter, that with a great deal of lost for a 
frolic, I will fly as soon as build : I have neither 
years, nor spirits, nor money, nor patience fcwr such 


amusements. The frolic is gone off, and I am 
only 1001. the poorer. But this kingdom is grown 
so excessively poor, that we wise men must think 
of nothing but getting a little ready money. It is 
thought tliere are not two hundred thousand pounds 
of specie in the whole island^ for we return thrice 
as much to our absentees, tis we get by trade, and so 
are all inevitably undone; which I have been telling 
them in print these ten years, to as little purpose m 
if it came from the pulpit. And this is enough for 
Irish politics, which I only mention, because it so 
nearly touches myself. I must repeat what I be-^ 
lieve I have said before, that I pity you much more 
than Mrs Pope. Such a parent and friend hourly 
declining before your eyes, is an object very unfit 
for your health, and duty, and tender disposition ; 
and I pray God it may not affect you too much. I 
am as much satisfied that your additional 1001. per 
annum is for your life as if it were for ever. You 
have enough to leave your friends ; I would not have 
them glad to be rid of you ; aad I shall take care 
that none but my enemies will be glad to get rid of 
me. You have embroiled me with Lord B ■ > 
about the figure of living, and the pleasure of giving. 
I am under the necessity of some little paltry figui« 
in the station I am ; but I make it as little as pos- 
sible. As to the other part you are base, because I 
thought myself as great a giver as ever was of my 
ability; and yet in proportion you exceed, and have 
kept It till now a secret even from me, when I won- 
dered how you were able to live with your whole 
little revenue. Adieu. 

Jon. Swift. 



Dublin^ Oct. 31, 1790. 

I RBCBivBD your lordship's travelling letter of 
several dates, at several Stages, and from different 
nations, languages, and religions. Neither could 
any thing be more obliging than your kind re- 
membrance of me in so many places. As to your 
ten lustres, I remember, when I complained in a 
letter to Prior, that I was fifty years old, he was 
half angry in Jest, and answered me out of Terence, 
ista commemoratio est quasi exprohratio. How 
then ought I to rattle you, when I have a dozen 
years more to answer for, all monastically passed in 
this country of liberty and delight, and money, and 
good company ! I go on answering your letter ; it is 
you were my hero, but the other * never was ; yet 
if he were it was your own fault, who taught me to 
love him, and often vindicated him, in the bejrin- 
ning of your ministry, from my accusations, f d\A 
I granted he had the greatest inequalities of any man 
alive, and his whole scene was fifty times more a 
what-d'ye-call-it, than yours : for I declare yours 

• Lord Oxford* — Warburton. 

f This passage has been founded npon bj the late ingenioiu 
Mr Warton, as inconsistent with Swift's preference of Oxford to 
BoliQgbroke. But to those who look narrowlj into Swiffs 
writings, it will, perhaps, appear, that he preferred Lord Oxford 
as a priTate friend, jet beiicTed that much of the ruin of Qoeen 
Anne's administration was owing, on the one hand to his indo* 
knee, and on the other to his joUousj of Bolingbroke, whose 
actire spirit was more fitted to meet the eyeats of that critical 


was unie; and I wish you would so order it, that 
the world may be as wise as I upon that article. 
Mr Pope wishes it too, and I believe there is not a 
more honest man in England, even without wit. 
But you regard us not. — I was forty-seven years old 
when I began to think of death ; * and the reflect 
tions upon it now begin when I wake in the mom* 
ing, and end when I am going to sleep. — I writ to 
Mr Pope, and not to you. My birth, although 
from a family not undistinguished in its time, is 
many degrees inferior to yours ; all my pretensions 
from person and parts infinitely so ; I a younger 
son of younger sons; f you bom to a great fortune; 
yet I see you, with all your advantages, sunk to a 
degree that you could never have been without 
them : but yet I see you as much esteemed, as 
much beloved, as much dreaded, and perhaps more 
(though it be almost impossible) than ever you were 
in your highest exaltation — only I grieve like an 
alderman that you are not so rich. And yet, my 
lord, I pretend to value money as little as you, and 
I will call five hundred witnesses (if you will take 
Irish witnesses) to prove it. I renounce your whole 
philosophy, because it is not your practice. By the 
figure of living (if I used that expression to Mr rope) 
I do not mean the parade, but a suitableness to 
your mind ; and as for the pleasure of giving, I 
know your soul suffers when you are debarred of it. 
Could you, when your own generosity and contempt 
of outwaixi things (be not offended, it is no eccle- 
siastical but an Epictetian phi*ase) could you, when 

* The year of Qaeen Anne'^ death. — WARBURTOif • 
f This seems merdy a general expression. In fact Swift had 
only one sister, Mrs Fen ton. 


these have brought you to it, come over and live 
with Mr Pope and me at the deanery ? I could 
almost wish the experiment were tried — ^No, God 
forbid, that ever such a scoundrel as Want should 
dare to approach you. But, in the mean time, do 
not brag; retrenchments are not your talent. But 
as old We3rmouth said to me in his lordly Latin, 
Philosopha verboy ignava opera; I wish yon could 
learn arithmetic, that three and two make five, and 
will never make more. My philosophical spectacles 
which you advise me to, will tell me that I can live 
on fifty pounds a-year (wine excluded, which my 
bad health forces me to) but I cannot endure tha^ 
otium should be sine digmtaie. — ^My lord, what I 
would have said of fame is meant <^ fame which 
a man enjoys in his life; because I cannot be a 
great lord, i would acquire what is a kind of mM- 
dium, I would endeavour that my betters shosid 
seek me by the merit of something distinguishable^ 
instead of my seeking them. The desire of enjoy- 
ing it in after times is owing to the spirit and fclOy 
of youth: but with age we learn to know the house 
is so full, that there is no room for above one or 
two at most in an age, through the whole worUL * 
My lord, I hate and love to write to you, it gives 
me pleasure, and kills me with melancholy. The 

d take stupidity, that it will not come to supply 

the want of philosophy. Jon. Swift. 

* When Lord Bolingbroke was Teiy old, ia hb redremeot it 
Battersea, it was costomary for many people to pay tiieir lespeeti 
to him, chiefly with the Tiew of seeing and conyersiog with t 
character so (ttstingnlshed. Among otters, Lord ChailwD, then 
a young man, called on him ; bat found him pedantic, fretful, 
angry with his wife, 8cc, Such is the mefauicholy ^t«re of the 
last stage of existence ! [Communkaied Bg Itord (Jhaiham to (ks 
late Marquis oj Lansdaane,^ 



Middleton Stoney, Not. 9^ 1729. 

I HAVE long known you to be my friend upon 
several occasions^ and particularly by your reproofs 
and admonitions. There is one thing, which you 
have often put me in mind of, the overrunning you 
with an answer before you had spoken. You find 
I am t)Ot a bit the better for it ; for I still write and 
write on, without having a word of an answer. I 
have heard of you once by Mr Pope : let Mr Pope 
hear of you the next time by me. By this way of 
treating me, I mean, by your not letting me know 
that you remertiber me, you are very partial to me, 
I should have said very just to me. You seepa to 
think, that I do not want to be put in mind of you, 
which is very true; for I think of you very often^ 
and as often wish to be with you. I have been in 
Oxfordshire with the Duke of Uueensberry for these 
three months, and have had very little correspon- 
dence with any of our friends. I have employed 
pay time in new writing a damned play, which I 
wrote several years ago, called " The Wife of Bath." * 
As it is approved or disapproved of by my friends, 
when I coriie to town, I shall either have it acted, 
or let it alqne, if weak brethren do not take ofTence 
at it. The ridicule turns upon superstition, and I 

* This comedy was the first be wrote, and was unsuccessfullj 
porformed at the theatre Id Drury.lanc in the year 1713. It was 
mitered by the author, and reri^ed seTeral years after [1729-30] 
at the theatre in Lincoln's-Inn.fields, and condemned a second 
time, although the author's reputation was then at its height from 
the uncommon success of his Beggar's Opera. — H. 


have avoided the very words bribery and corraption. 
Folly indeed is a word, that I have ventured to make 
use of; but that is a term that never gave fools 
offence. It is a common saying, that he is wise 
that knows himself. What has happened of late, 
I think, is a proof that it is not limited to the 

My Lord Bathurst is still our cashier ; when I see 
him, I intend to settle our accounts, and repay my- 
self the five pounds out of the two hundred I owe 
you. Next week I believe I shall be in town ; not 
at Whitehall, for those lodgings were judged not 
convenient for me, and were disposed of. Direct 
to me at the Duke of Queensberry's, in Burlington 
Gardens, near Piccadilly. You have oflen twitted 
me in the teeth for hankering after the court. In 
that you mistook me: for 1 know by experience 
that there is no dependence that can be sure, but a 
dependance upon one's self. I will take care of the 
little fortune I have got. I know you will take this 
resolution kindly, and you see my inclinations will 
make me write to you, whether you will write to 
me or not. I am, dear Sir, yours most sincerely, 
and most aflfectionately, 

J. Gay. 

P. S. To the lady I live with, I owe \x\y life and 
fortune; think of her with respect; value and 
esteem her as I do; and never more despise a 
fork with three prongs. I wish too you would 
not eat from the point of your knife. She has 
so much goodness, virtue, and generosity, that if 
you knew her, you would have a pleasure in obey- 
ing her as 1 do. She often wishes she had known 



Nor. 19, 1729. 

, I FIND that you have laid aside your project of 
building in Ireland, and that we shall see you in 
this island cum zephyris^ et hirwndine prima. I 
know not whether the love of fame increases as we 
advance in age ; sure I am that the force of friend- 
ship does. I loved you almost twenty years jigo : 
I thought of you as well as I do now, better was 
beyond the power of conception, or to avoid an 
(equivoque, beyond the extent of my ideas. Whether 
you are more obliged to me for loving you as well 
ivhen I knew you less, or for loving you as well 
after loving you so many years, I shall not deter- 
mine. What I would say is this : while my mind 
grows daily more independent of the world, and 
i&els less need of leaning on external objects, the 
ideas of friendship return oftener, they busy me, 
they warm me more. Is it that we grow more 
tender as the moment of our great separation ap- 
proaches? or is it that they who are to live together 
in another state (for vera amicilia non nisi inter 
bonosj begin to feel naore strongly that divine sym- 
pathy which is to be the great band of their future 
society ? There is no one thought which sooths my 
inind like this: I encourage my imagination to 
pursue it, and am heartily afflicted when another 
faculty * of the intellect comes boisterously in, and 

• Vi«. reason. Tully (to whom the letter-writer seems to 
allude) obserTes something like this oq the like occasion, where, 
speaking of Plato's famons book of the soal, he says, ^^ Nescio 
qaomodo, dum lego, adsentior : cum posui librum, ot mecum 



wakes me from so pleasing a dream, if it be a dream. 
I will dwell no more on economics than I have done 
in my former letter. Thus much onlj I will say, 
that odum cum dignitate is to be had with dOOl. 
a-year as well as with 50001. : the diflference will be 
found in the value of the man, and not in that of 
the estate. I do assure you, that I have never 
quitted the design of collecting, revising, improv- 
ing, and extending several materials which are still 
in my power; and I hope that the time of setting 
mvself about this last work of my life is not far off. 
Many papers of much'curiosity and importance are 
lost, and some of them in a manner which would 
surprise and anger you. However, I shall be able 
to convey several great truths to posterity, so clearly 
and so authentically, that the Burnets and the Old- 
mixons of another age may rail, but not be able to 
deceive. Adieu, my friend. I have taken up more 
of this paper than belongs to me, since Pope is to 
write to you; no matter, for upon recollection the 
rules of proportion are not broken ; he will say as 
much to you in one page as I have ssud in three. 
Bid him talk to you of the work he is about.* I 
hope in good earnest, it is a fine one ; and will be 

ipse de immortalitafe aDimorum ex pi cogitare, adscntio ilia 
omnis elabitur.*' Cicero seenifl to have bad but a coDfased !!•• 
tion of the cause of the slippery nature of this assent, whidi the 
letter.writer has here eiplaiocd; namely, that the imaginatioo vi 
always ready to indulge so flattering an idea, bat seTerer reosoo 
corrects and disclaims it. As to Religion, that is out of the 
question ; for Tully h rote to his few philosophic friends ; thoagh, 
as has been the fate of his Lordship's first philosophy (where this 
whole matter is expkuned at large) it came at last into the hands 
of the public. — Warburton. 

♦ << Essay on Man ;'' on which, therefore, it appears he was 
employed in 1729.-^Dr W^uton. 


in his hands an original. His sole complaint is, 
that he finds it too easy in the execution. This 
flatters his laziness, it flatters my judgment, who 
always thought that (universal as his talents are) 
this eminently and peculiarly his, above all the 
writers I know^ living or dead: I do not except 




Not. 28, 1729. 

This letter (like all mine) will be a rhapsody': 
it is many years ago since I wrote as a wit. * How 
many occurrences or informations must one omit^ 
if once determined to say nothing that one could 
not say prettily ! I lately received from the widow 
of one dead correspondent, and the father of ano- 
ther, several of my own letters of about fifteen 
and twenty years old ; and it was not unentertaining 
to myself to observe, how and by what degrees 1 
ceased to be a witty writer; as either my experience 
grew on the one hand, or my affection to my cor- 
respondents on the other. Now as I love you bet- 
ter than most I have ever met with in the worlds 
and esteem you too the more, the longer I have 
compared you with the rest of thg world; so inevi- 
tably I write to you more negligently, that is more 
openly, and what all but such as love one another^ 

* He used to Talue himself on this particalar.—WARBUBTOK. 


will call writing worse. I smile to think how Cnrll 
would be bit were our epistles to fall into his hands, 
and how gloriously they would fall short of every 
ingenious reader's expectations. 

You cannot imagine what a vanity it is to me, 
to have something to rebuke you for in the way df 
economy. I love the man that builds a house swUo 
ingenio, and makes a wall for a horse ; then cries, 
** We wise men must think of nothing but getting 
ready money." I am glad you approve my annuity; 
all we have in this world is no more than an annuity, 
as to our own enjoyment: but I will increase your 
regard for my wisdom, and tell you that this an- 
nuity includes also the life of another, * whose con- 
cern ought to be as near to me as my own, and with 
whom my whole prospects ought to finish. I throw 
my javelin of hope no farther, cur brevi fortes jacu- 
lamur tevo, &c. f 

The second (as it is called, but indeed the eighth) 
edition of the Dunciad, with some additional notes 
and epigrams, shall be sent you if I know any op- 
portunity; if they reprint it with you, let them by 
all means follow that octavo edition. — ^The Drapier's 
Letters are again printed here, very laudably, as to 
paper, print, &c. for you know I disapprove Irish 
politics (as my commentator tells you) being a strong 
and jealous subject of England. The lady yoa 
mention, you ought not to complain of for not 
acknowledging your present ; she having lately re* 
ceived a much richer present from Mr Knight of 
the South Sea; and you are- sensible she cannot 

* Hb mother's. — Warbubton. 

t Why do we dart with eager strife 
At things beyond the nark of life?— S. 


ever return it to one in the condition of an outlaw. 
It is certain, as he never can expect any favour, ^ 
his motive must be wholly disinterested. Will not 
this reflection make you blush ? Your continual 
deplorings of Ireland make me wish you were here 
long enough to forget those scenes that so afflict you : 
I am only in fear if you were, you would grow such 
a patriot here too as not to be quite at ease, for 
your love of old England. It is very possible your 
journey, in the time I compute, might exactly tally 
with my intended one to you : and if you must soon 
again 'go back, you would not be unattended. For 
the poor woman decays perceptibly every week; 
and the winter may too probably put an end to a 
very long, and a very irreproachable life. My con- 
stant attendance on her does indeed affect my mind 
very much, and lessen extremely my desires of long 
life ; since I see the best that can come of it is a 
miserable benediction. I look upon myself to be 
many years older in two years si;ice you saw me : 
the natural imbecility of my body, joined now to 
this acquired old age of the mind, makes me at least 
as old as you, and we are the fitter to crawl down 
the hill together; I only desire I may be able to 
keep pace with you. My first friendship, at six- 
teen, was contracted with a man of seventy : and I 
found him not grave enough or consistent enough 
for me, though we lived well to his death. I speak 
of old Mr Wycherley : some letters of whom (by 
the by) and of mine, the booksellers have got and 
printed, not without the concurrence of a noble 

* Yet as Mr Nichols well notices, Knight was afterwards 
actually pardoned, so that the present to Mrs Howard mijht 
fiot, perhaps, be altogether without a moti?e, 



friend of mine and yours. I do not much approve 
of it; though there is nothing for me to be ashamed 
of, because I will not be ashamed of any thing I do 
not do myself, or of any thing that is not im- 
moral, but merely dull : as for instance, if they 
printed this letter I am now writing, which they 
' easily may, if the underlings at the post-<^ce 
please to take a copy of it. I admire on this 
consideration, your sending your last to me quite 
open, without a seal, wafer, or any closure what- 
ever, manifesting the utter openness of the writer. 
I would do the same by this, but fear it would look 
like affectation to send two letters so together. — I 
will fully represent to our friend (and I doubt not it 
wrill touch his heart) what you so feelingly set forth 
as to the badness of your Burgundy, &c. He is an 
extremely honest man, and indeed ought to be so, 
considering how very indiscreet and unreserved he 
is: but 1 do not approve this part of his character, 
and will never join with him in any of his idlenesses 
in the way of wit. You knovv my maxim, to keep 
as clear of all offence as I am clear of all interest in 
either party. * I was once displeased before at you,- 

for complaining to Mr of my not having 

a pension; and am so again at your naming it to a 
certain lord, I have given proof in the course of 
my whole life (from the time when I was in the 
friendship of Lord Bolingbroke andMrCraggs,even 
to this when I am civilly treated by Sir Robert 
Walpole) that I never thought myself so warm in 
any party's cause as to deserve their money; and 

* This was a wise and pradcnt resolution, 'to which Pope id 
general adhered. His feuds were of a literary^ not of a poli- 
tical description. 


therefore would never have accepted it : but give 
me leave to tell you, that of all mankind the two 
persons I would least have accepted any favour from, 
are those very two, to whom you have unluckily 
spoken of it. 1 desire you to take off any impres- 
sions >vhich that dialogue may have left on his lord- 
ship's mind, as if I ever had any thought of being 
beholden to him, or any other, in that way. And 
yet you know I am no enemy to the present consti- 
tution ; I believe as sincere a well-wisher to it, nay 
even to the church established, as any minister in 
or out of employment whatever; or any bishop of 
England or Ireland. Yet I am of the religion of 
Erasmus, a catholic: so I liv^, so I shall die; and 
hope one day to meet you. Bishop Atterbury, the 
younger Craggs, Dr Garth, Dean Berkeley, and 
Mr Hutchenfion, in that place, to which God, of 
his infinite mercy, bring us and every body ! 

Lord B.'s answer to your letter I have just re- 
ceived, and join it to this packet. The work he 
speaks of with such abundant partiality is a system 
pf iethics in the Hpratian way. 


Jan 3, 17M.30. 

Seeing your frank on the outside, and your 
address in the same hand, it was obvious who was 

* The Dean, who increased the glebe of Laracor, from one io 
twenty acres, resented, with great Tehemence, any attempt to in- 
fringe upon the property he had added to it. Some dispute of 
the kind gate rise to thi^ sefere letter* 


the writer. And before I opened it, a worthy 
friend being with rae, I told him the contents of 
the difference between us: That your tithes being 
generally worth five or six pounds pe^' annumj and 
by the terror of squireship, frightening my agent to. 
take what you graciously thought fit to give, you 
wronged meof half my due every year: Thatbaving 
held from your father an island worth threepence 
a-year, which I planted and paid two shillings an-* 
nually for, and being out of possession of the said 
island seven or ei<rht years, there could not possibly 
be above four shillings due to you ; for which you 
have thought proper to stop three or four years 
tithe, at your own rate of two pounds five shillings 
a-year (as I remember) and still continue to stop it, 
on pretence that the said island was not surrendered 
to you in form ; although you have cut down more 
plantations of willows and abeles, than would pur- 
chase a dozen such islands. I told my friend, " That 
this talent of esquires prevailed very much formerly 
in the country : That as to yourself, from the bad- 
ness of your education, a<5ainst all my advices and 
endeavours, and from the cast of your nature, as 
well as another circumstance which I shall not 
mention, I expected nothing from you that became 
a gentleman : That I had exj>ostulated this scurvy 
matter very gently with you : That I conceived this 
letter was an answer : That from the prerogative of 
a good estate, however gotten, and the practice of 
lording over a few Irish wretches, and from the 
natural want of better thinking, I was sure your 
answer would be extremely rude and stupid, full of 
very bad language in all senses : That a bear in a 
wilderness will as soon fix on a philosopher as on 
a cottager; and a man wholly void of education, 
judgment, or distinction of persons, has no regard, 


is insolence, but to the passion of fear: an() 
heartily I wished that, to make you show your 
ility, your quarrel had rather been with a captain 
agoons, than the Dean of St Patrick's." 
11 this happened before my opening your letter; 
;h being read, my friend told me, " I was an 
lesser ; that you affirmed you despised me only 
clergyman, by your own confession; and that 
had reason, because clergymen pretend to learUT 
wherein you value yourself as what you are an 
' stranger to." 

took some pains in providing and advising about 
' education ; but, since you have made so ill use 
\y rules, I cannot deny, thai according to your 

principles, your usage of me is just. You are 
lly out of my danger: the weapons I use will do 
no hurt; and to that which would keep nicer 

in awe, you are insensible. A needle against 
>ne wall can make no impression. Your faculty 
in making bargains : stick to that. Leave your 
dren a better estate than your father left you ; as 
eft you much more than your grandfather left 
. Your father and you are much wiser than I, 
t gave among you fifty years purchase for land, 
which I am not to see one farthing. This was 
nded as an encouragement to a clergyman to 
ie among you whenever any of your "posterity 
1 be able to distinguish a man from a beast. 
; thing I desire you will be set right in : I do not 
>ise all squires. It is true, I despise the bulk of 
n. But pray lake notice, that a squire must 
e some merit before I shall honour him with 
contempt J for I do not despise a fly, a maggot, 
. mite. 

r ^ou send me an answer to this, I shall not 
I It, but open it before company, and in th«r 


presence bum it ; for no other reason but the de- 
testation of bad spelling, no grammar, and that 
pertness which proceeds from ignorance and an in- 
vincible want of taste. 

I have ordered a copy of this letter to be taken, 
with an intention to print it as a mark of my esteem 
for you ; which, however, perhaps I shall not pur- 
sue: for I could willingly excuse our two names 
from standing in the same paper, since I am con- 
fident you have as little desire of fao^e as I have tq 
give it you. * 

I wish many happy new-years to you and your 
family : and am, with truth. 

Your friend and humble servant. 

Let me add something serious : That, as it is held 
an imprudent thing to provoke valour; so, I con- 
fess, it was imprudent in me to provoke rudeness: 
which, as it was my own standing rule never to 
do, except in cases where I had power to punish 
it, so my error proceeded from a better opiiUon 
of you than you have thought fit to make good : 
for, with every fault in your nature, your educa- 
tion, and your understanding, I never imagined 
you so utterly devoid of knowing some little 
distinction between persons. 


Feb: 1^ 17^.30. 

Dear Dean, 

I HAVE this moment received a letter from you: 
but it is the first I can call a letter: the other scraps 


were only to direct me to convey your correspon- 
dence to others, and I thought I answered them 
best by obeying your demands. But now you have 
deigned to send me one in form, with a proper 
beginning and ending, I will not wait even for a 
post-day ; but I have taken pen and ink immediately 
to tell you, how much I think myself obliged to 

you, and how sincerely I am 

Well, I might end here if I would ; but I can^ 
jiot part with you so soon ; and I must let you know, 
that as to your money affairs, though I have paid 
off John Gay, I still keep your two hundred pounds, 
for which I have given him a note. I have paid 
him interest to this time for it, which he must 
account to you for. Now you must imagine, that 
a man who has nine children to feed^ cannot long 
afford alienos pascere nummos ; but I have four or 
five, that are very fit for the table. * I only wait 
for the lord-mayor's day to dispose of the largest ; 
and I shall be sure of getting off the youngest, when- 
ever a certain great manf makes another entertain- 
ment at Chelsea. Now you see, though I am your 
debtor, I am not without my proper ways and means 
to raise a supply answerable to your demand. I 
must own to you, that I should not have thought of 
this method of raising money, but that you seemed 

* This allades to a tract of the Dean's, entitled, <^ A modest 
Proposal for preTenting the Children of poor People in Ireland 
^rom bei^g a Burden to their Parents or Country, and for making 
them beneficial to the Public." The Dean had proposed many 
useful schemes, which having been neglected, he satirically and 
humourously proposed to fatten and eat the children of the poor^ 
as the only remaining expedient to prevent misery to themstlves, 
;uid render them of some benefit to the public-^-U. 

+ Sir Robert Walpolc.— B. 


to point it oat to me. For, just at the time that 
scheme came out, which pretended to be calcolatai 
only for Ireland, you gave me a hint in one of the 
envelopes [Anglice covers] that you wished I might 
provide for my numerous family; and in this last 
you harp upon the same string. I did immediatdy 
propose it to Lady Bathurst, as your advice, parti- 
cularly for her last boy, which was bom the 
plumpest, finest thing, that could be seen; but 
she fell' in a passion, and bid me send you word, 
that she would not follow your direction, but that 
she would breed him up to be a parson, and he 
should live upon the fat of the land ; or a lawyer, 
and then, instead of being eat himself, he should 
devour others. You know women in passion never 
mind what they say j but, as she is a ver^' reason- 
able woman, I hav^ almost brought her over now 
to your opinion; and having convinced her, that as 
matters stood, we could not possibly maintain all 
the nine, she does begin to think it reasonable the 
youngest should raise fortunes for the eldest : an4 
upon that foot a man may perform family duty 
with more courage and zeal ; for, if he should hap- 
pen to get twins, the selling of one niight provide 
for the other. Or if, by any accident, while his 
wife lies in with one child, he should get a second 
upon the body of another woman, he might dispose 
of the fattest of the two, and that would help to 
breed up the other. The more *I think ^p9n this 
scheme, the more reasonable it appears to me; and 
it ought by no means to be confined to Ireland ; 
for, in all probability, we shall, in a very little time, 
be altogether as poor here as you are there. I 
believe, indeed, we shall carry it fsirther, and not 
confine our luxury only to the eating of children ; 
for I happened to peep the other day into a large 


assembly * not far from Westminster-hall, and I 
found them roasting a great fat fellow, f For my 
own part, I had not the least inclination to a slice 
of him; but, if I guessed right, four or five of the 
company had a devilish mind to be at him. Well, 
adieu, you begin now to wish I had ended, when I 
might have done it so conveniently. 


LondoD, March 3, 1729.50. 

Drar Sir, 
I FIND you are determined not to write to me, 
according to our old stipulation. Had I not been- 
every post for some time in expectation to have 
heard from you, I should have writ to you before, 
to have let you know the present state of your 
affairs, for I would not have you think me capable 
of neglecting yours, whatever you think of me as 
to my own^ I have received 311. 13s. 4d. interest 
from Lord Bathurst for your 2001. from Oct. 1727 to 
Christmas 1729, being two years and two months, 
at 51. per cent. Lord Bathurst gave me a note for 
your 2001. again, and to allow interest for the same, 
dated Jan. 15, 1729-80./ If you would have me 
dispose of your money any other way, I shall obey 
your orders. Let me know what I shall do with 
the interest-money I have received. What I have 
done for you, I did for myself, which will be always 
the way of my transacting any thing for you. My 
old vamped play got me no money ; for it had no 
success. I am going very soon into Wiltshire with 

« The parliament.— B. t Sir Robert Walpole.— B. 



the Duke of Queensberry, with ao intention to stay 
there till the winter. Since I had that severe fit 
of sickness, I find my health requires it; for I can- 
not bear the town as I could formerly. I hope ano- 
ther summer's air, and exercise, wUl reinstate me. 
I continue to drink nothing but water, so that yoa 
cannot require any poetry from me. I have been 
very seldom abroad since I came to town, and not 
once at court. This is no restraint upon me, for I 
am grown old enough to wish for retirement I 
saw Mr Pope, a day or two ago, in good spirits, 
and with good wishes for you : for we always talk 
of you. The Doctor ♦ does the same. I have left 
off all great folk but our own family ; perhaps yoa 
will think all great folks little enough to leave off 
us, in our present situation. I do not hate the 
world, but I laugh at it; for none but fools can be 
in earnest about a trifle. I am, dear Sir, yours most 

Direct for me at the Duchess of dueensberry^s^ 
in Burlington Gardens, f 


DoYer Street, March 4, 1729.50. 

Good Mr Dean, 

It is now above a whole year and six months 

since I have had the favour and pleasure of a line 

from your own self, and I have not troubled yoa 

with one from myself; the answer that you would 

* Dr Arbathnot— N. 

-i- Endorsed, << Answered March I."— N. 


Baturally make is very obvious, Why do you then 
trouble me now ? I reply, it is to join with my 
friend Mr Pope in recommending the person con- 
cerned in the. enclosed proposal to your favour and 
protection, and to entreat that you would be so 
good as to promote his interest. I have not sent 
you any of his receipts ; but will when you please 
to let me know what number you can dispose of : I 
believe that your bishops have more learning, at 
least would be thought to have more, than our 
bench here can pretend to ; so I hope they will all 
subscribe. The person concerned is a worthy 
honest man ; * and, by this work of his, he is in 
hopes to get free of the load which has hung upon 
him some years: this debt of his is not owing to 
any folly or extravagance of his, but to the calamity 
of his house being twice burnt, which he was obliged 
to rebuild; and having but small preferment in the 
church, and a large family of children, he has not 
been able to extricate himself out of the difficulties 
these accidents have brought upon him. Three 
sons he has bred up well at Westminster, and 
they are excellent scholars ; the eldest has been 
one of the ushers in Westminster school since the 

year 1714. 

He is a man in years, yet hearty, and able to study 
many hours in a day. This, in short, is the case 
of an honest, poor, worthy clergyman ; and I hope 
you will take him under your protection. I cannot 
pretend that my recommendation should have any 
weight with you, but as it is joined to and under 
the wing of Mr Pope. 

• ^ Mr Wesly, a learned clergyman, then publbhipgy by tub-* 
acriptioDj a Commeotary on the Book of Job. 


I took hold of this opportanity to write to fm^ 
to let you know you had such an humble servanl 
in being that often remembers you, aod wisbei 
to see you in this island. My family, I thank 
Grod, is well: my daughter had, last summer, the 
small-pox really, and in the natural way, and she 
is not marked at all. My wife and daughter de- 
sire that you will accept of their humble serrices, 
and say that they want much to see you. 

I obeyed your commands, and did Mr Whallejr 
all the little senrice I was capable of : it was littfe 
enough that was in my power, Grod knows. He 
comes again before us soon after Easter ; he seenv 
to be in great hopes; I wish they may be well 

I think it is now time to release you, which I 
will not do until I have told you, I may say 
repeat to you, that I have a house for you^ or 
house-room, come when you please, provided you 
come soon. I am, with true respect and esteem, 
your most obliged and most humble servant, 


Your lord-lieutenant would do well to encourage 
this poofr man ; he deserves it better than Bulkdejr. 


Hatch ill 

t>EAR Sir, 

I EXPECT, in about a fortnight, to set out for 

Wiltshire, and am as impatient as you seem to be 

to have me to get on horseback. I thought pn^r 

to give you this inteUigence,. bacanse Mr Lewis 


told me last Sunday, that he was in a day or two 
to set out for the Bath ; so that very soon you are 
likely to have neither of your cashiers in town. 
Continue to direct for me at this house : the letters 
will be sent to me, wherever I am. My ambition, 
at present, is levelled to the same point that you 
direct me to ; for I am every day building villakins, 
and have given over that oi caitles. If I were to 
undertake it in my present circumstance, I should, 
in the most thrifty scheme, soon be straitened ; and 
t hate to 1^ in debt ; for I cannot bear to pawn five 

Jounds worth of my liberty to a tailor or a butcher, 
grant you, this is not having th& true spirit of 
modem nobility, but it is hard to cure the prejudice 
of education. I have made your compliments to 
Mr Pulteney, who is very much your humble 
servant. I have not seen the doctor, and am not 
likely to see his Rouen brother very soon : for he is 
gone to China. Mr Pope told me, he had ac* 
quainted the doctor witli the misfortune of the 
sour hermitage. My Lord Oxford told me, he at 
present could match yours, and from the same 
person. The doctor was touched with your disap- 
pointment, and has promised to represent this affair 
to his brother, at his return from China. I assure 
you too, for all your gibes, that^ wish you heartily 

C)d wine, though I can drink none myself When 
rd Bolingbroke is in town, he lodges at Mr Chet- 
wynd's, in Dover Street. I do not know how to 
direct to him in the country. I have been ex- 
tremely taken up of late in settling a steward's 
account.* I am endeavouring to do all the justice 

* Of the Duke of Queensbcrry's, to whom Gay acted as 
pmate secretary. 



and service I can for a friend ; so I am sare yon 
will think I am well employed. Upon this occa- 
sion^ I now and then have seen Jo. Taylor^ who 
says he has a demand upon you for i^nt, you hav- 
ing taken his house in the country, and he being 
determined not to let it to any body else : and he 
thinks it but reasonable, that you should either 
come and live in 'it, or pay your rent. I neither 
ride nor walk ; but I design to do both this month, 
and to become a laudable practitioner. 

The duchess wishes she had seen you, and thinks 
you were in the wrong to hide yourself^ and peep 
through the window, that day she came to Mr 
Pope's. The duke, too, is obliged to you for your" 
good opinion, and is your humble servant. If I 
were to write, I am afraid I should again incur the 
displeasure of my superiors. I cannot for my life 
think so well of them as they themselves think 
they deserve. If you have a very great mind to 
please the duchess, and at the same time to please 
me, I wish you would write a letter to her^ to send 
to her brother. Lord Combury, to advise him in his 
travels; for, she says, she would take your advice 
rather than mine-, and she remembers, that you 
told her in the park, that you loved and honoured 
her family. YoUf always insisted upon a lady's 
making advances to you ; I do not know whether 
you will think this declaration sufficient. Then 
too, when you were in England, she writ a letter 
to you, and I have been often blamed since for not 
delivering it. ^ • 

The day the pension bill was thrown out of the 
House of Lords, Lord Bathurst spoke with great 
applause. I have not time to go to Mr Pope's : in 
a day or two very probably I shall see him, and ac- 
quaint him about the usquebaugh. 1 will not em- 


hezzleyoxxT interest money; though, by looking 
npon accounts^ I see how money may be embezzled. 
Ag to my being engaged in an affair of this kind, I 
say nothing for myself, but that I will do all I can : 
for the rest I leave Jo. Taylor to speak for me. 
To-day I dine with Alderman Barber, the present 
sheriff, who holds his feast in the city. Does not 
Chartres's misfortunes ♦ grieve you ? For that great 
man is likely to save his life, and lose some of his 
money. A very hard case ! 

P. S. I am just now come from the alderman's feast, 
who had a very fine dinner, and a very fine ap- 
pearance of company. 

The post is just going away. * 


April 12, 1730. 

This is a letter extraordinary, to do and say no- 
thing but iQecommend to you (as a clergyman, and 
a charitable one) a pious and a good work, and for 
a good and an honest man : moreover, he is above 
seventy, and poor, which you might think included 
in the word honest. I shall think it a kindness 
done myself if you can propagate Mr Wesley's 
subscription for his Commentary on Job among 
your divines (bishops excepted, of whom there is 

^ He was cenSleiimed at the Old Bailej, Feb. ftTy l739-30j tot 
a rape*— B. 


no hope) and among such as are beIievers»or read- 
ers of scripture. Even the curious may find some- 
thing to please them, if they scorn to be edified. 
It has been the labour of eiglit years of this learned 
man's life ; I call him what he is, a learned man, 
and I engage you will approve his prose more than 
you formerly could his poetry. * Lord Bolingbroke 
is a favourer of it, and allows you to do your best 
to serve an old tory, and a sufferer for the chorch 
of England, though you are a whig as I am. 

We have here some verses in your name, which 
I am angry at. Sure you would not use me so ill 
as to flatter me. I therefore think it is some other 
weak Irishman. 

P. S. I did not take the pen out of Pope's hands, 
I protest to you. But since he will not fill the re- 
mainder of the page, I think I may without offence. 
I seek no epistolary fame, but am a good deal pleas- 
ed to think, that it will be known hereafter that yon 
and I lived in the most friendly intimacy together. 
Pliny writ his letters for the public, f so did Seneca, 
so did Balsac, Voiture, &c. Tully did not, and 
therefore these give us more pleasure than any 
which have come down to us from antiquity. When 
we read them, we pry into a secret which was in- 
tended to be kept from us. That is a pleasure. 
We see Cato, and Brutus, and Pompey, and others. 

* See Vol. XI. p. 245, where, in the Battle of the Books,. 
Uomer is said to haye slain Wesley with a kick of his horse's 
heel. lie w^ author of a poem entitled The Life of Christ. 

f A just and sensible criticism on epistoiaiy writings, which 
we ihould bear in our minds while we are reading this coUectioo 
of Letters.— Dr Wabton. 



such as they really were, and not such as the gap- 
ing multitude of their own age took them to be, or 
as historians and poets have represented them to 
ours. That is another pleasure. I remember to 
have seen a procession at Aix la Chapelle, wherein 
an image of Charlemagne is carried on the shoulders 
of a man, who is hid by the long robe of the impe- 
rial saint. Follow him into the vestry, you see the 
bearer slip from under the robe, and the gigantic 
figure dwindles into an image of the ordinary size> 
and is set by among other lumber. I agree much 
with Pope, that our climate is rather better than 
that you are in, and perhaps your public spirit 
would be less grieved, or oftener comforted, here 
than there. Come to us therefore on a visit at least. 
It will not be the fault of several persons here, if 
you do not come to live with us. But great good 
willy and little power, produce such slow and feeble 
effects as can be acceptable to heaven alone, and 
heavenly men. I know you will be angry with me 
if I say nothing to you of a poor woman, who is still 
on the other side of the water in a most languishing 
state of health. If she regains strength enough to 
come over (and she is better within these few weeks)t 
I shall nurse her in this farm with all the care and 
tenderness possible. If she does not, I must pay 
her the last duty of friendship wherever she is^ 
though I break through the whole plan of life which 
I have formed in my mind. Adieu. 

I am most faithfully and affectionately yours. 

VOL. xviu 



at wickldw. 


I BEGGED some mutton of you, and you put me 
off with a barrel of ale ; these disappointments we 
must endure. But the main business is, whether it 
be of your own brewing, and here is another nlen^ 
Hum. I knew we must not look a gift horse in the 
mouth, but ale must look into ours. 

There is another point ; I would fain know what 
title you have to send me ale or any thing else, 
when you hardly ever see the inside of the deanery, 
or taste my bad wine. 

• I have had intentions to drink some of your Wick- 
low ale upon the place, because I fancy it is better 
where it grows ; and, in such a case, it will not be 
improper that the minister should be actually re- 

I shall observe your directions of keeping it, and 
Mr John Grattan will be delighted with ale strong 
and stale, or beer stout and clear. 

You are a strangpr to these proverbs. I am trur 
ly obliged to you for remembering me ; although it 
be the duty of you. country-folks, as it is of us town- 
folks, to forget you, and therefore we have a legal 
title to your presents. 

* This letter, with other two to the same gentlenum, hare now, 
for the first time, appeared in Swift's correspondence. The Rer. 
Mr Johii Biachford, to whom they are addressed, was a pre- 
bendary of Wicklow, a clergyman of respectability and talents, 
and grandfather to the late highly accomplished Mrs Henry Ttghe, 
author of Pysche. 


However, for once I will break this rule, by as- 
suring you, that I have been, am, and shall be al- 

Your obedient and obliged servant. 

DabliD, April 16, 1731. 


April 10, 1730. 

My Lady Carteret (if you know such a lady) 
commands me to pursue my own inclination; which 
13) to honour myself with writing you a letter ; and 
thereby endeavouring to preserve myself in your 
memory, in spite of ^n acquaintance of more years 
than, in regard to my own reputation as a young 

gentleman, I care to recollect. I forgot whether I 
ad not some reasons to be angry with your lady- 
ship, when I was last in England. I hope to see 
you very soon the youngest great-grandmother in 
Europe: and fifteen years hence (which I shall 
have nothing to do with) you will be at the amuse- 
ment of " Rise up, daughter, &c.'' You are to an- 
swer this letter ; and to inform me of your health 
and humour; and whether you like your daughter 
better or worse, after having so long conversed with 

. the Irish world, and so little with me. Tell me what 
are your amusements at present ; cards^ court, books, 

O visiting, or fondling (I humbly beg your ladyship's 

* FraQces Lady Worslej, only danghter of Thomas Lord Vis. 
eornit Wey]Dout^, was tbe lady of Sir Robert Worsley, Bart, 
aod mother to Lady Carteret. 


pardon, but it is between ourselves) your grandchil-^ 
dren ? My Lady Carteret has been the bt*st queea 
we have known in Ireland tly^se many years; yet 
is she mortally hated by all the young gins^ because 
(and it is your fault) she is handsomer than all of 
them together. Pray, do not insult poor Ireland on 
this occasion ; for it would have been exactly the 
same thing in London. And therefore I shall ad- 
vise the king, when I go next to England, to send 
no more of her sort (if such another can be*found) 
for fear of turning all his loyal female subjects here 
against him. 

How is our old friend Mrs Barton ? * (I forget 
her new name.) I saw her three years ago, at court, 
almost dwind ed to an echo, and hardly knew her; 
while your eyes dazzled me as much as when I first 
met them ; which, considering myself, is a greater 
compliment than you are aware of. I wish you 
may have grace to find it. 

My Lady Carteret has made me a present, which 
I take to be malicious, with a design to stand in 
your place. Therefore I would have you to provide 
against it by another, and something of your own 
work, as hei*s is. For you know, I always expect 
advances and presents from ladies. Neither was I 
ever deceived in this last article by any of your sex 
but the queen, whom I taxed three years ago with 
a present of ten pounds value. Upon taking my 
leave, she said, *^ She intended a medal for me, but 
it was not finished/' I afterward sent her, on her 
own commands, about five and thirty pounds worthy 

* The niece of Sir Isaac Newton, and married, first, to Colonal 
Barton, altcrwardi to Mr Condnit. She 15 very fitquentlj 
tioned in the Journal to Stella. 


of silk, for herself and the princesses ; but never re* 
ceived the medal to this day. * Therefore, I will 
trust your sex no more. You are to present my 
most humble service to my old friend Sir Robert 
Worsley. I hope my friend Harry is well, and fat- 
tening in the sun, and continuing a bachelor, to en- 
rich the poor Worsley family. 

I command you to believe me to be, with the 
greateiH ^^^^h^i^d respect, &c. 

Jon. Swift. 



June 30, 17S0. 

Dear Dean, 
I received a letter from you some time ago 
whidh gave me infinite pleasure ; and I was going 
to return you an answer immediately : but when I 
tet down to write, I found my thoughts rolled tipon 
the trifles, which fill the scene of life in that busy, 
senseless place, where 1 then was ; f and though I 
h^d nothing to do there, at least nothing worth do- 
ing, and time lay upon my hands, J was resolved to 
defer writing to you, till I could clear my head from 
that rubbish which every one must contract in that 
place. I cannot but fancy, if one of our heads 
were dissected af^er passing a winter's campaign 
there, it would appear just like a pamphlet shop : 
you wonld see a collection of treaties, a bundle of 

• This negligence the Dean often alludes io^ and never dther 
fofgot or forgaTe. 

t i#ondoB,— N* 


farces, a parcel of encomiums, another of satires 
speeches, novels, sermons, bawdy songs, addresses, 
epigrams, proclamations, poems, divinity-lectures, 
quack-bills, historical acco^mts, fables, and God 
knows what; 

The moment I got down here, I found myself 
quite clear from all those affairs: but really, the 
hurry of business which came upon me after a state 
of idleness for six months, must excuse me \q you. 
Here I am absolute monarch of a circle of a'bove a 
mile round, at least one hundred acres of ground, 
which (to speak in the style of one of your coun* 
trymen) is very populous in cattle, fish, and fowl. 

To enjoy this power, which I relish extremely, 
and regulate this dominion, which I prefer to any 
other, has taken up my time from morning to night 
There are Yahoos in the neighbourhood ; but IIav- 
ing read in history, that the southern part of Bri* 
tain was long defended against the Picts by a wall, 
I have fortified my territories all round. That wise 
people the Chinese, you know, did the same thing 
to defend themselves against the Tartars. Now I 
think of it, as this letter is V> be sent to you, it will 
certainly be opened ; and I shall have some obser- 
vations made upon it, because I am within three 
miles of a certain castle. Therefore I do hereby 
declare, that nothing herein contained shall extend, 
or be construed to extend, so far : and farthermore, 
I think myself in honour bound to acknowledge, 
that under our present just and prudent ministry, I 
do not fear the least molestation from that quarter. 
Neither are the fortifications aforementioned in any- 
wise designed to keep them out ; for I am well sar 
tisfied they cap break through much stronger fences 
than these,«jf they should have a mind to it Ob- 
serve how naturally power and dominion are attend* 


ed with fear and precaution. When I am in the 
kerd, I have as little of it about me as anybody ; 
but now that I am in the midst of my own domi- 
nions, I think of nothiag but preserving them, and 
grow fearful lest a certain great man should take a 
mncy to them, and transport them into Norfolk, * 
to place them as an island in one of his new-made 
fish-ponds. Or, if you take this for too proud a 
thought, I will only suppose it to be hung out un- 
der a great bow-window. 

In either case I must confess to you, that I do 
not like it. In the first place, I am not sure his 
new-made ground may hold good : in the latter 
doe, I have some reason to doubt the foundations 
of his house are not so V>lid as he may imagine. 
Now, therefore, I am not so much in the wrong as 
you may conceive, to desiriJHhat my territory may 
remain where it is : for,ihough I know you could 
urge many arguments to show the advantages I 
might reap by beingiao near him, yet I hold it as a 
maxim, that he who is contented with what he has, 
ought not to risk that, even though he should have 
a chance to augment it in any proportion. I learn- 
ed this from our friend Erasmus ; and the corrupt 
nations, that money is power, and therefore every 
man ought to g^ as much as he can, in order to 
create more power to himself, have no weight with 

But now, to begin my letter to you, I have re- 
ceived four bottles of usquebaugh, and sent three of 

* To Houghton, the seat of Sir Robert Walpole, which ke ie« 
built with more splendour than was consistenf with his good sense 
imd prudence, considering to what odious imputations an incau- 
tious dispUiy of wealth always subjects a prime minister. 


them to Mr Pope; so that I have detained only 
one for myself. I do not believe such an instance 
of honesty, punctuality, disinterestedness, and sdf- 
denial, can be given in this age. The whole being 
in my power, I have withheld but the quarter part. 
I expect, if ever I come to be a great man, you will 
write a vindication of me, whether I am aspersed 
or not. Till then, I remain your most faithful and 
most obedient servant. 


* Ameslwry, Jnlj 4, 17S0. 

Dear Sir, 
You tell me, that I imve plht myself out of the 
way of all my old acquaintance, so that unless I 
hear from you, I can kn9w nothing of you. Is it 
not barbarous then to leave yie so long without 
writing one word to me ? If you will not write to 
me for my sake, methinks you might write fpr your 
own. How do you know what is become of your 
money ? If you had drawn upon me when I ex- 
pected it, you might have had your money, for I 
was then in town ^ but I am now at Amesbury, at 
the Duke of Queensberry*s. The duchess scoids 
you her services. I wish you were here : I fancy 
you would like her and the place. You might fan- 
cy yourself at home ; for we have a cathedral near 
,us, where you might find a bishop of the same 
name.* - You might ride upon the downs, and write 

* Dr Benjamin ^oadlj, Bishop of Salisbnr j, whoso brother, 
Dt John Iloadlj, succeeded Archbishop King in the see of Dmb- 
tin, January 19, 1729-30..^B. 


conjectures upon Stonehenge. We are but five and 
twenty miles from the Bath ; and I was told this 
very evening by General Dormer (who is here^) 
that he heard somewhere or other, that you had 
som^ intentions of coming there the latter season. 
I wish any thing would bring us together^ but your 
want of health. I have left off wine and writing ; 
for I really think, that man must be a bold writer, 
who trusts to wit without it. I took your advice ; 
and some time ago took to love, and made some 
advances to the lady you sent me to in Soho, but I 
met no return ; so I have given up all thoughts of 
it, and have now no pursuit or amusement. A state 
of i^dolenqe is what I do not like ; it is what I would 
not choose. I am not thinking of a court, or pre- 
ferment : for I think the lady I live with is my friend, 
so that I am at the height of my ambition. You 
have often told me, there is a time of life, that every 
one wishes for some settlement of his own. I have 
frequently that feeling about me, but I fancy it will 
hardly ever be my lot : so that I will endeavour to 
pafls away life as agreeably as I can, in the way I am. 
1 often wish to be with you, or you with me ; and 
I « believe you think l%aytrue. I am determined 
to write to you, though those dirty fellows of the 
post-office do read my letters : for, since I saw you, 
I am grown of that consequence to be obqpxious 
to the men I despise ; so that it is very probable in 
their hearts they think me an honest man. I have 
heard from Mr Pope but once since I left London ; 
I was sorry I saw him so seldom, but I had busi-« 
ness, that kept me from him. I often wish we were 
together again. If you will not write, come. I am, 
dear Sir, « 

"* Yours most sincerely and affectionately. 





DoTer Street, Julj 15, l7aa. 

Reverend Sir, 

Mr Clayton telling me he was going for Ireland, 
I could not forbear sending you a few lines by him, 
although I may punish you ; yet it is so great a plea- 
sure to me to think of you, and to converse with 
you even in this manner, that I must expect yoa 
will be so good as to forgive the trouble this gives 

I do not know what notions you entertain of us 
here ; I fear and believe you afe in a very bad way : 
this is my thought, that devoured we certainly shall 
be ; but only this will be the difference, we shall 
have that great favour and instance of mercy, that 
we shall have the honour to follow you, and be the 
last devoured ; and though this is so plain, and that 
demonstrable, yet we have so many unthinking, un- 
accountable puppies among us, that to them every 
thing seems to go well as it should do ; and are so 
pleased with this thought, br rather do not think at 
all, that it is in vain to say any thing to them. This 
is a very disagreeable subject, and I will therefore 
leave j^t. 

My wife is, I thank God, pretty well : her sto- 
mach is rather better than it was : Peggy is very 
well : both desire you will accept of their humble 
service. You mention your law affairs: I know so 
much of that sort of people called lawyers, that I 
pity most heartily any one that is obliged to be 
concerned with them : if you are not already^. I 
hope you will be. soon safe out of their hands. 

I suppose Master Whaley is, by this tiine> got 



safe to his living, and enjoying the fruit of his vic- 
tory* peace and quietness. I believe he hofi enough 
of law, of lawyers, and of lords both spiritual and 
temporal. 1 hope he is well : if you see him, my 
service to him. * 

I wish you would come over here, that we might 
have the pleasure of seeing you. Why should you 
not pass the winter here ? I should think it would 
be mofe agreeable to you than where you are. 

Lord Bathurst has had a fever ; but he is now 
well again. Pope I saw yesterday; he is pretty 
well. I am, with true respect and esteem, Sir, . 
Your most affectionate humble servant, 



Cirencester, Sept. 9, 1730. 

Dear Sir, 
You have taken all the precaution, which a rea- 
sonable man could possibly take, to break off an 
impertinent correspondence, and yet it will not do. 
One must be more stupid than a Dutch burgomas- 
ter, not to see through the design of the last letter. 
** I show all your letters to our Irish wits. One of 
them is going to write a treatise of English bulls 
and blunders." And for farther security, you add 
at last, '< I am going to take a progress, God knows 
where, and shall not be back again, God know9 

* Whaley'8 law-suit is noticed bj tbe Dean in a pieceding 
ter to Popci 6th Marchj 17^-9. 


when." I have given you a reasonable breathing 
time ; and now, I musf at you again. I receive lo 
much pleasure in reading your letters, that, accords 
ing to the usual go6d nature and justice of mankindt 
I can dispense with the trouble I give you in read^ 
ing mine. But if you grow obstinate, and would not 
answer, I will plague and pester you, and do alll 
can to vex you. I will take your works to pieces, 
and show you, that they are all borrowed or^stolen. 
Have you not stolen the sweetness of your numbers 
from Dryden and Waller ? Have not you borrowed 
thoughts from Virgil and Horace ? At least, I am 
sure I have seen something like them in those books. 
As to your prose writings, which they make such a 
noise about, they are only some little improvements 
upon the humour you have stolen from Miguel de 
Cervantes and Rabelais. Well, but the style — a 
great matter indeed, for an Englishman to value 
himself upon, that he can write English : M[hy, I 
write Ejiglish too, but it is in another style. 

But I would not forget your political tracts. You 
may say, that you have ventured your ears at one 
time, and your neck at another, for the good of 
your country. Why, that other people have done 
in another manner, upon less occasion, and are not 
at all proud of it. You have overturned and sup- 
ported ministers ; you have set kingdoms in a flame 
by your pen. Pray, what is there in that, but hav- 
ing the knack of hitting the passions of mankind ? 
With that alone, and a little knowledge of ancient 
and modern history, and seeing a little farther into 
the inside of things than the generality of men, you 
have made this bustle. Tnere is no. wit in any of 
them : I have read them all over, and do not re- 
member any of those pretty flowers, those just anti- 
theses, which one meets with so frequency in the 


French writers ; none of those clever taros upon 
words^ nor those apt quotations out of Latin authors, 
which the writers bf the last age among us abound- 
ed in; none of those pretty similes, which some of 
our modem authors adorn their works with, that 
are not only a little like the thing they would illus- 
trate, but are also like twenty other things. In short 
as often as I have read any of your tracts, I have 
been so tired with them, that I have never been 
easy till I got to the end of them. I have found 
my brain heated, my imagination fired, just as if I 
was drunk. . A pretty thing indeed for one of your 
j^own to value himself upon, that with sitting still 
an hour in his study, he has often made three king- 
doms drunk at once. 

I have twenty other pbints to maul you upon, if 
you provoke me ; but if you are civil and good- 
natured, and will send me a long, a very long letter, 
in answer to this, I will let you alone a good 
while: Well, adieu. If I had had a better pen, 
I can tell you, that I should not have concluded 
so soon. 


London, Sept. 19, 1730. 

Had I not been retired into the country, yours 
should have been answered long ago. As to your 

* Daughter of the Earl of Berkelaj, Swift's original, although 
inefficient patron. For the ladies of the family, Swift bid 
much respect, and Ladj Betty Gemudn, who had the honour to 



poetess, * I am her obliged servant, and must con* 
fess the fact is just as you state it. It is very true I 
was gaming ; and upon the dapper youth's deliver- 
ing me a paper, which I just opened, found they 
were verses; so slunk them into my pocket, and 
there truly they were kept exceeding private ; for 
I cannot accuse myself of showing them to a mor- 
tal. But let me assure you, it was not out of mo- 
desty, but in great hopes that the author would have 
divulged them ; which, you know, would have look- 
ed decenter than trumpeting my own fame. But 
it seems unhappily we were both bit, and judged 
wrong of each other. However, since you desire it, 
you may be very sure she should not fail of my en- 
treaties to his grace of Dorset for her, though you 
have not }^et let me into the secret what her request 
is : so till my Lord Carteret does his part, or that I 
hear from you again, it will be but a blind sort of a 
petition. I have not seen his grace this great while, 
and he is now at Windsor, and I choose rather to 
speak to him on all accounts, having not so fine a 
talent at writing, as that lord's lady ; and whether 
just or no, I will not attempt disputing with her 
ladyship. But as you are commonly esteemed by 
those who pretend to know you, to have a tolerable 
share of honesty and brains, I do not question your 
doing what is right by him ; nor his paying you all 
the civility and kindness you can desire. Nor wiB 
I hope their influence ever can ma^e him do other* 

join bim in a copy of Tcnes so early as 170^ (See VoU XfV. 
p. 59,) retained his friendship and regard while be had the power 
•f distinguishing any one. Her letters to the Dean m d^tia* 
(obhed by their firmness and freedoov 
* Mis Barber probably. 


wise, ifaough he has the unfashionable quality of 
Esteeming his old friends ; but however partial to 
ihem, yet not to be biassed against his own seiise 
aud judgment. The consequence of this I hope^ 
will be your coming to England^ and meeting often 
with him (in Lady Betty's chamber*') where the 
^* happy composition" t should exert her skill in 
ordering dinner; and I would not mistake oil of 
^ber tor the spirit of it, but continue as I ever was^ 
your sincere friend^ as well as faithful humble ser« 

£• Gbbmain. 


Amesburj^ Not. 89 iJiO* 

I)ear Sir, 
So you are determined never to write to me again $ 
but, for all that, you shall not' make me hold my 
totigue. You shall hear from me (the post-office 
willing) whether you will or not. I see none of the 
folks you correspond with, so that I am forced t6 
pick up intelligence concerning you as I can ; which 
has been so very little, that I am resolved to mabei 

* Allvding to the first line id Franca Harris's petition. — ^H. 
f Thb expression alludes to the last terse of Swiffs ^^ Rcc^pf 
to totm a Beauty," 

^ And called the hkppy compodtion Floyd." 

Biddy Floyd is mentioned in the Ballad on the Game of Traf» 
fick^ as being one of the party at Lord Berkeley's, and at this 
lime lited with Lady fietty.^H. It will be obserTed that Ladr 
Betty Oermain's letters often refer to the poems and jasti whicQ 
were carient while Swift was an inmate of her father's fwily* 


my complaints to you as a friend, who I know lores 
to relieve the distressed : and in the circumstances 
I am in, where should I apply, but to my best friend ? 
Mr Pope, indeed, upon my frequent inquiries, has 
told me that the letters which are directed to him 
concern me as much as himself : bat what you say 
of yourself, or of me, or to me, I know nothing at 
all. Lord Carteret was here yesterday, in his re- 
turn from the Isle of Wight, where he had been a 
shooting, and left seven pheasaitts with us. He 
went this morning to the Bath, to Lady Carteret, 
who is perfectly recovered. He talked of you three 
hours last night, and told me that you talk of me : 
I mean, that you are prodigiously in his favour, as 
he says ; and I believe that I am in yours ; for I 
know you to be a just and equitable' person, and it 
is but my due. He seemed to take to me, which 
may proceed from your recommendation ; though^ 
indeed, there is another reason for it, for he is now 
out of employment, and my friends have been ge- 
nerally of that sort : for, I take to them, as being 
naturally inclined to those who can do no mischief. 
Pray, do you come to England this year ? He thinks 
you do. I wish you would ; and so does the Duchess 
of Queensberry. What would you have more to 
induce you ? Your money cries, come, spend me : 
and your friends cry, come see me. I have been 
treated barbarously by you. If you knew how of- 
ten I talk of you, how often I think of you, you 
would now and then direct a letter to me, and I 
would allow Mr Pope to have his share in it. In 
short, I do not care to keep any man's money, that 
serves me so. Love or money I must have ; and if 
you will not let me have the comfort of the one, I 
think I must endeavour to get a little comfort by 
spending some of the other. I must beg that you 


will call at Amesbury, in your way to London ; for 
I have many things to say to you ;' and I can assure 
you, you will be welcome to a three-pronged fork. 
I remember your prescription, and I do ride upon 
the do^ns ; and at present I have no asthma. I 
have killed five brace of partridges, and four brace 
and a half of quails : and I do not envy either Sir 
Robert or Stephen Duck, who is the favourite poet 
of the court. ♦ I hear sometimes from Pope, and 
from scarce anybody else. Were I to live ever so 
long, I believe I should never think of London; 
but I cannot help thinking of you. Were you here, 
I .could talk to you, but I would not ; for you shall 
have all your share of talk,t which was never al- 
lowed you at Twickenham. You know this was a 
grievance you often complained of; and so, in re- 
venge, you make me write all, and answer nothing. 
I beg my compliments to Dr Delany. 

I am, dear Sir, yours most affectionately, 

J. Gay. 

I ended the letter as above, to go to the duchess, 
and she told me, I might go down, and come a 
quarter of an hour hence. I had a design to have 
asked her to sign the invitation, that 1 have made 
you. As I do not know how much she may have 
to say to you, 1 think it will be prudent to leave 
off, that she may not be stinted for want of room. 
So much I will say, that whether she signs it or 

)t »!■— ^-■^■'^— ♦^T' 

* Stephen Duck, a poor thresher, haTing written tome rer^es, 
thoy were shown to Queen Caroline ; who made him her library, 
keeper at Richmond. He afterward took orders, and was pre. 
feried to a liTing, but growing melancholy, he at last drowped 
Ipimself.— -H. 

t Mr Gay was resenred in his con? ersation— H, 


943 BFirrOLART CORI|Bf pomd^kci. 

noty both the duke and duchess would be Terjr glad 
you would come to A^nesbuiy ; and you mtti be 
persuaded, that 1 say this without tbe least private 
4riew. Bar 9 what tome whether yc^ come oi: 
iipt ? Eor I can write to you, you know. 


I would fain hav^e you coqae. I cimnol say yoo 
will be welcome; for I do not know you, and 
perhaps I shall not like yon ; but if I do not, (un* 
less you are a very Tain person) you shall knoff 
my thoughts as soon as I do myself. 



Dnblio, Not. 10, 1790. 

When my Lord Peterborough, in the queen*s 
(ioie, went abroad upon his embassies, the ministry 
told m^, that he was such a vagrant, they were 
forced to write at him by guess, b^ause they knew 
liot where to write to him. This is my case witl^ 
you; sometimes in Scotland, s6metim,es at Ham- 
walks, sometimes Go^ knows where. . You are a 
man of business, and not at leisure for insignificant 
correspondence. It was I got you the employment 
of being my lord duke's premier minisire : for his 
grace having heard how ^od a manager you were 
of my revenue, thought you fit to be entrusted with 
ten talents. I have had twenty times a strong in- 
1 clination to spend a summer n^ar Salisbv^ry downs, 

m having rid over them more than once, and with a 

young parson of Salisbury reckoned twice the stones 




of Stonehenge, which are either ninety-two or nine- 
ty-three. I desire to present my most humble ac- 
knowledgments to my lady duchess in return of her 
civility. I hear an ill thing, that she is matre puU 
chra filia pulchrior: I never saw her since she was 
a girl, and would be angry she should excel her 
mother, who was long my principal goddess. I 
desire you will tell her grace, that the iH manage- 
ment of forks is not to be helped when they are 
only bidential, which happens in all poor houses, 
especially those of poets ; upon which account a 
knife was absolutrly necessary at Mr Pope's, where 
1% was morally impossible, with a bidential fork,* to 
convey a morsel of beef, with the incumbrance of 
mustard and turnips, into your mouth at once. And 
her grace hath cost me thirty pounds to provide 
tridents for fear of ofTending her, which sum J de- 
sire she will please to retlirn me. I am sick enough 
to go tQ the Bath, }>ut have not heard it will be good 
for my disorder. I have a strong mind to spend my 
two hundred pounds next summer in France : I am 
glad I hav(s it, for there is hardly twice that sum left 
4n this kingdom. You want no settlement (I call 
the family where you live, and the foot you are up- 
on, a settlement) till you increase^ your fortune to 
what will support you with ease and plenty, a good 
house and a garden. The want of this I much dread 
for you : for I have often known a she-cousin of a 
good family and spiall fortune, passing months 
among all her relations, living ii] plenty, and taking 
|ier circles, till she grew an old maid, and every 
bpdy weary of her. Mr Pope complains of seldom 
seeing you : but the evil is unavoidable, for diffe- 
rent circumstances of life have always separated 
those whom friendship will join : God haih taken 
care of this, to prevent any progress toward re^ 


happiness here, which would make life more desir- 
ahle, and death too dreadful. I hope you have now 
one advantage that you always wanted before, and 
the want of which made your friends as uneasy as 
it did yourself; I mean the removal of that solici- 
tude about your own affairs, which perpetually fil- 
led your thoughts, and disturbed your conversation. 
For if it be true what Mr Pope seriously tells me, 
you will have opportunity of saving every groat of 
the interest you n^ceive ; and so by the time he and 
you grow weary of each other, you will be able to 
pass the rest of your wineless life in ease and plen- 
ty ; with the additional triumphal comfort of never 
having received a penny from those tasteless un- 
grateful people from whom you deserved so much, 
and who deserve no better geniuses than those by 
whom they are celebrated. If you see Mr Csesar, 
present my humble service to him, and let him 
know that the scrub libel printed against me here, 
and reprinted in London, for which he showed a 
kind concern to a friend of us both, was written by 
myself, and sent to a whig printer ; it was in the 
style and genius of such scoundrels, when the hu- 
mour of libelling ran in this strain against a friend 
of mine whom you know. But my paper is ended. 

4oN. Swift. 



Nofember 10, 1 790, 

My Lord, 

I WAS positively advised by a friend, whose opi- 
nion has much weight with me, and who has a great 
veneration for your lordship, to venture a letter of 
solicitation : and it is the first request of this kind 
that I ever made, since the public changes in times, 
persons, measures, and opinions, drove me into dis- 
tsmce and obscurity. 

There is an honest man, whose name is Launce- 
lot ; he has been long a servant to my Lord Sussex : 
he married a relation of mine, a widow, with a 
tolerable jointure ; whjch, depending upon a lease 
which th^ Duke of Grafton suffered to expire about 
three years ago, sunk half her little fortune. Mr 
Launcelot had many promises from the Duke of 
Dorset, while his grace held that office, which is 
now in your lordship ; * but they all failed, after 
the usual fate tb^t th^ bulk of court suitors must 

I am very sensible that I have no manner of 
claim to the least favour from your lordship, whom 
I have hardly the honour to be known to, although 
you were always pleased tp treat me with much hu- 
manity, and with more distinction than 1 could pre- 
tend to deserve. I am likewise conscious of that 
demerit which I have largely shared with all those 

* The celebrated, accomplished, and witty Philip Dormer Stan., 
kope. Earl of Chesterfield. 
t Lord steward. 


who concerned themselves in a court and ministry, 
whose maxims and proceedings have been ever since 
8o much exploded. But your lordship i%ill grant 
me leave to say> that in those times, when any per- 
sons of the ejected party came to court, and were 
of tolerable consequence, they never failed to suc- 
ceed in any relisonable request they made for a 
friend. And when- 1 sometimes added my poor so- 
licitations, I used to quote the then ministers a pas- 
sage in the Gospel, 'f The poor'* (meaning their 
own dependants) <* you have always with you/' fro. 

This ^s the strongest argument I have to entreat 
your lordship's favour for Launcelot, who is a p^- 
fectly honest man, and as loyal as you could wish. 
His wife, my near relation, has been my iavouiite 
from her youth, and f^ deserving as it is possible 
for one of her level. It is understood, that some 
little employments about the court may be often in 
your lordship's disposal, and that my Lord Sussex 
will give Mr Launcelot the character he deserves: 
and then let my petition be (to speak in my owq 
trade) ** a drop in the bucket." 

Remember, my lord, that filthough this letter be 
long, yet what particularly concerns my request if^ 
but of a few lines. 

I shall not congratulate with your Iprdship upoi) 
any of your present great employments, or upon the 
greatest that can possibly be giv^n to you ; because 
you are one of those very few who do more hcmonr 
to a court, than you can possibly receive from it ; 
which I take to be a greater compliment to aay 
court than it is to your lordship. 

I am, my Lord, &c. 

JoN. Swift* 




Thb passage in Mr Pope^s letter about rcMir 
health <ioes not alarm me : both of us have had the . 
distemper these thirty years. I ha?e found tbtt 
isteely the warm gums, and the bark, all do good in 
it. Therefore, first take the vomit A ; then, every 
day, the quantity of a nutmeg, in the morning, of 
the electuary marked B ; with five spoonfuls of the 
tincture marked D* Take the tincture, but not the 
fslectuary, in the afternoon* You may take one oY 
the pills marked C, at any time when you are trou« 
bled with it ; or thirty of the drops marked E, in 
any vehicle, even water. I had a servant of my own, 
that was cured merely with vomiting. There is an- 
pther medicine not mentioned^ which you may try ; 
the pulvis rad. Valerianae sylvestris, about a scruple 
of it twice a-day. How came you to take it in your 
head, that I was queen's physician ? When I am so, 
you shall be a bishop, or any thing you have a mind 
to. Pope is now the great reigning poetical favour- 
ite. Your lord-lieutenant t has a mind to be well 
with you. Lady Betty Germsun complains you 
' have not writ to her since she wrote to you. I have 
showed as much civility tu Mrs Barber as I could, 
and she likewise to me. I have no more paper, but 
what seryes to tdl you, that I am, with great since- 

Your most faithful humble servant, 

J. Abbuthnot. 

• l^ndorMd, << ReceiTed Not. 13^ 1730.''— H. 
t The Duke of Donet.— H« 


I recommended Dr Helsham to be physician to 
the lord-lieutenant. I know not what effect it will 
have. My respects to him and Dr Delany. 


9» pulv. rad. ipecacoanae> Bj. 

1^ conserv. flavedin. aurant. absytith. Rom. ana 5vj. 
rubigin. martis in poUin. redact. 3iij* syrup, e suc- 
co kermes, q. s. 


9» as. foetid. Sij. tinctur. castor, q. s. M. fiant pilols 


Si cortic. peruviani elect, rubigin. martis ana 5J.'di- 
gere tepid^ in vini alb. Gallic. A ij per 24 horas: 
postea fiat colatura. 

9» sp. cor. cen^. sp. lavendul. tinctur. castor, ana Sij. 
misce. * 

* As these receipts maj possibly be useful to some person troo. 
bled with the Dean's compkuot of giddiness, Dr Arbuthnot's re- 
ceipt of bitters, for strengthening the stomach, is added. 
Take of zcdoarj root one drachm ; galangal and Roman 
wormwood, of each two drachms ; orange peel, a drachm ; 
lesser cardamom seeds, two scruples. Infuse all in a quart 
of boiling spring water for six hours ; strain it off, and add 
to it four ounces of greater compound wormwood wa- 



Dublin, Nov. 19, 1730* 

I WRIT to you a long letter about a fortnight past 
concluding you were in London, froiti whence I 
understood one ^ of your former was dated : nor did 
I imagine you were gone back to Amesbury so late 
in the year, at which season I take the country to 
be only a scene fof those who have been ill used 
by a court on account of their virtues; lyhich is a 
state of happiness the more valuable, because it is 
not accompanied by enyy, although nothing de- 
serves it more. ' I would gladly sell a dukedom to* 
lose favour in the manner their graces have done. * 

* After the amazing success of the Beggar's Opera, Gay pro* 
duced another, with the name (which was now become so popu- 
lar) of ^^ Polly." This, as it was supposed to contain severe 
and pointed sarcasms on the court, and those in power, was for- 
bid to be acted by the Lord Chamberlain. In consequence of 
the Duke dnd Duchess of Queensberry*s warmly taking up Gay's 
canse, they were forbid the court* The following high-spirited 
letter was sent by the duchess to the king and queen, copies of 
which were generally circulated : 

*^ That the Duchess of Queensberry is surprized, and well 
pleased, that the king has given her so agreeable a command as 
to stay from Court, where she neyer came for dirersion, but to 
bestow a gnut ciTility upon the king and queen. 

<^ Slic hopes, by such an unprecedented order as this, that the 
king will see as few as he wbhes at his court, particularly such 
as dare to think, or speak truth. I do not do otherwise, nor 
ought not ; nor could haye imagined, that it would not have been 
the Tcry highest compliment I could possibly pay the king, to 
endeavour to support truth and innocence in his house* 


I believe my Lord Carterel,* since he is no longer 
lieutenant, may not wish me ill, and I have told 
him often that I only hated him as lieutenant. I 
confess he had a genteeler manner of binding the 
chains of this kingdom than most of his predeces- 
sors, and I confess, at the same time, that he bad, 
six times, a regurd to my recommendation, by pre* 
ferring so many of my friends in the Church s the 
two last acts of his favour were to add to the aigni- 
ties of Dr Delany and Mr Stopford, the last of whom 
was by you and Mr Pope put into Mr Pnltcsiey's 
hands. 1 told you in my last, that a continuance 
of giddiness (though not in a violent degree) pre- 
vented my thoughts of England at present. For in 
my case a domestic life is necessary, where I can 
with the centurion say to my servant, go, and he 
goeth, and do this, and he doeth it. I now hate idl 
people whom I cannot command, and conaequentiy 
a duchess is at this time the hateftdiesl lady in the 
world to me, one only excepted, f and I beg her 
grace's pardon for that exception, for, in the way I 
mean, her grace is ten thousand times more hate* 

^' Pkrticiilarly when the king wid queen had both told me thst 
they had not read Mr fray's play. I ha?e certainly done right 
then to stand by my own word, rather than by hv gsaoe of GttI* 
ton*8, who has neither made use of trnth, jndgment, or hoDosr, 
daring thb whole affair, either for himself^ or his friends.*'— 
[DooiMOTON Papers, March 4, 1798-9;] 

* The lines which this nobleman quoted from Homer, on his 
death»bed, to Mr Wood, on occasion of the peace, were as hap- 
pily applied, as the apology he «sed to Swift for some harsh 
snres in Irdand : 

* Recni nefitas m» triia cogH 

•" Moliri.** Dr Wakiom. 

f The queen. 


(a\. I confess I begin to apprehend you will squan- 
der my money, because I hope you never less want- 
ed it ; and if you go on with success for two years 
longer, I fear I shall not have a farthing of it left. 
The doctor hath ill informed me, who says that Ts/Lt 
Pope is at present the ghief poetical favourite, yet 
Mr Pope himself talks like a philosopher, and one 
wholly retired. But the vogue of our few honest 
folks here is, that Dack is absolutely to succeed 
Eusden in the laurel ; the contention being between 
Concanneh or Theobald, or some other hero of the 
Danciad« I never charged you for not talking, 
but the dubious state of youi* affsurs in those days 
was too much the subject, and I wish the duchess 
had been the voucher of your amendment. Nothing 
so much contributed to my ease as the turn of af- 
fairs after th< queen's death ; by which all my hopes 
being cut oCE^ I could have no ambition left, unless 
I would have been a greater rascal than happened 
to suit with my temper. I therefbfe sat down quiet- 
ly at my morsel, adding only thereto a principle of 
hatred to all succeeding measures and ministries by 
way of sauce to relish my meat : and I confess one 
point of conduct in my lady duchess's life has ad- 
ded much poignancy to it. There is a good Irish 
practical bull toward thjs end of your letter, where 

Jrou spend a dozen lines in telling me you must 
eave off, that you may give my lady duchess room 
to write, and so you proceecl to vnthin two or three 
lines of the bottom ; though I would have remit- 
ted you my 200h to have left place for as namy 
more. - 



My beginning thus low is meant as a mark of 
respect, like receiving your gprace at the bottom of 
the stairs. I am glad you know your duty ; for it 
has been a known and established rule above twenty 
years in England, that the first advances have been 
constantly made me by all ladies who aspired to my 
acquaintance, and the greater their quality, the 
greater were their advances. Yet, I know not by 
what weakness, I have condescended graciously to 
dispense with you upon this- important article. 
Though Mr Gay will tell you that a nameless per- 
son sent me eleven messages * before I would yield 
to a visit : I mean a person to whom he is infinitely 
obliged, for being the occasion of the hsq>piness be 
now enjoys under the protection and favour of my 
lord duke and your grace. At the same time I can- 
not forbear telling you, madam, that you are a little 
imperious in your manner of making your advances. 
You say, perhaps you shall not like me : I affirm 
you are mistaken, which I can plainly demonstrate; 
for I have certain intelligence, that another person 
dislikes me of late, with whose likings yours have 
not for some time past gone together. However, if 
I shall once have the honour to attend your grace, I 
will out of fear and prudence appear as vain as I 
can, that I may. not know your thoughts of me. 
This is your own direction, but it was needless; for 

* lie means Queen Caroline ; and her neglect of Gaj, which 
recommended him to the Dachess of Queensberry, — Dr Wabto5. 



Diogenes himself would be vain, to have received 
the honour of being one moment of his life in the 
thoughts of your grace. 

JoN. Swift. 


NoTember 21, 1730* 


I BO now pity the leisure you have to read a 
letter from me ; and this letter shall be a history. 
iFirst, therefore, I call you to witness, that I did 
not aittend on the queen till I had received her own 
repeated messages ; which^ of course, occasioned 
my being introduced to you. I never asked any 
thing till, upon leaving England the first time, I 
desired from you a present worth a guinea: and 
from her majesty one worth ten pounds ; by way 
of a memorial. Yours I received; and the queen^ 
upon my taking leave of her, made an excuse that 
she had intended a medal for me ; which "not beiuK 
ready, she would send it me the Christmas fol- 
lowing ; yet this was never done, nor at all remem-^ 
bered when I went back to England the next year, 
and by her commands, attended her as I had done 
before. I must now tell you, madam, that I will 
receive no medal from her majesty, nor any thing 
less than her pictuire at half length, drawn by 
Jervas ; and if he takes it from another original, the 
queen shall sit at least twice for him to touch it 
up. I desire you will let her majesty know this in 
plaim words, although I have heard that I am 
under her displeasure. But this is a usual thing 

VOL. xvn. z 



with princes, as well as ministers, upon every fake 
representation; and so I took occasion to tell the 
queen, upon the quarrel Mr Walpc^e had with ojdt 
friend Gay, the first time I ever had the honour to 
attend her. 

Against you I have but one reproach : That when 
I was last in England, and just after the present 
king's accession, I resolved to pass that summer in 
France, for which I had then a most lucky oppor- 
tunity 'y from which those who seemed to love me 
well dissuaded me, by your advice : and when I 
sent you a note, conjuring you to lay aside the 
character 'of a courtier and a favourite upon that oc- 
casion, your answer positively directed me not .to 
go in that juncture ; and you said the same thing to 
my friends, who seemed to have power of giving me 
hints, that I might reasonably hope for a settlement 
in England ; which, God knows, was no very great 
ambition, considering the station I should leave 
here, of greater dignity, and which might have 
easily been managed to be disposed of as the queen 
pleased.. If these hints came from you, I affinn, 
you then acted too much like a courtier. But I 
forgive you, and esteem you as much as ever. You 
had your reasons, which I shall not inquire into ; 
because I always believed you had some virtues^ 
besides all the accomplishments of mind and person 
that can adorn a lady. 

I am angry with the queen for sacrificing my 
friend Gay to the mistaken piques of Sir Robert 
Walpole, about a libel written against him; al- 
though he were convinced at the same time of 
Mr Gay's innocence ; and although^ as I said be- 
fore, I told her majesty the whole story. Mr Gay 
deserved better treatment among you, upoi^ all 
accounts^ and particularly for his excellent unre- 



^rdeJ Fables, dedicated to Prince William ; which 
I hope his royal highness will often read, for his ia- 
stniclton. I wish her majesty woald a little re- 
member what I largely said to her about Ireland, 
when, before a witness, she gave me leave, and 
commanded me, to tell here what she spoke to me 
upon that subject ; and ordered me, if I lived to 
see her in her present station, to send her our 
grievances ; promising to read my letter, and do 
all good offices in her power for this miserable and 
most loyal kingdom, now at the brink of ruin, and 
never so near as now. As to myself, I repeat again, 
that I never asked any thing more than a trifle, as 
a memorial of some distinction which her majesty 
graciously seemed to make between me and every 
common clergyman ; but that trifle was forgotten, 
according to the usual method of princes, although 
I was taught to think myself upon a foot of pre- 
tending to some little exception. 

As to yourself, madam, I most heartily congra- 
tvlate with you for being delivered from the toil, 
the envy, the slavery, and vexation, of a fa- 
vourite ; where you could not always answer the 
good intentions that I hope you had. You will 
now be less teazed with solicitations, one of the 
greatest evils in life. You possess an easy employ- 
ment, with quiet of mind, although it be by no 
means equal to your merit; and if it shall please 
God to establish your health, I believe and hope 
you are too wise to hope for more. Mr Pope has 
always been an advocate for your sincerity; and 
even I, in the character I gave you of yourself, al- 
lowed you as much of that virtue as could be ex- 
ricted in a lady, a courtier, and a favourite. Yet, 
confess, I never heartily pledged your health as a 
toast, upon any other regards than beauty, wit^ 


good sense, and an HfAleiiiished character* Po^^ 
as to friendship, tmth, sincerity, and other trifles 
of that kind, I never concerned myself abont them ; 
becaase I knew them to be only parts of the lower 
teorals, which are altogether useless at courts. I 
am content that you should tell the queen all I 
have said of her; and in my own words, if you 

I could have been a better prophet in the cha* 
racter I gave yoii of yourself, if it had been good 
manners, in the height of 3rour credit, * to put you 
in mind of its mortality: for you are not;die first, 
by at least three ladies, whom I have known to 
uiidergo the same turn of fortune, t It is allowed, 
that ladies are often very good scaffoldings; and I 
need not tell you the use that scaffoldings are put to 
by all builders, as well . political as mechanic. I 
should have begun this letter by telling you, that I 
was encouraged to write it by my best mend, and 
one of your great -admirers ; who told me, '* that, 
from something that had passed between you, he 
thought you would not receive it ill.'' After all, I 
know no person of your sex, for whom I have so 
great an esteem, as I do and believe I shaH always 
continue to bear for you, I mean a private person: 
for I must except the queen, and it is not an ex- 
ception of form: because I bave really a very 
great veneration for her great qualities, although I 
have reason to cotnplain of her conduct to toe; 

* Thit chaiacter was writtea in the year 1737 s and suy be 
Gonsalted, Vol. IX. p. 485. 

f The Dean probably alludes to the Dnchess of Marlbortragl^ 
Lady Masham, and the Dochess of Somerteti att of wkiw lal 
been faToariles of Queen Anne. 


which I coqld not excuse although she had fifty 
fcingdiHiis to govern. I have but room to conclude 
with my sincere professions of beings with true 

Your most obedient humble servant. 

JoN. Swift. 


Amesbury, Dec. 6, 173(X 
Dear Sir, 
Both your letters, to my great satisfaction, I 
|iave received. You were mistaken as to my being 
in town; for I have been here ever since the begin? 
ning of May. But the best way is to direct youir 
letters always to the duke's house in London ; and 
they are sent hither by his porter. We shall stay 
^ere till lifter the holidays. You say we deserve 
eqvy: I ^ini; we do; for I envy* no man, either 
ill town or put of it. We h^ve had some few visi^ 
lors^ wA eveiy one of thom sugh as one would 
d^ire to visit The duchess is a niore severe check 
upon pvy ^n9!|[H>es than, ever yoi) were \ and I sub* 
m\$ ^ I did {o you, to comply to my own good, 
X was 9 long tim^^ before { could prevs^il with her 
to Wt o^e allow myself a pair of shoes with two 
heels i fpr I had loiat Qpe, and the shoesi were so 
deiQ^yed ths^t they were not worth »e»ding. You 
ise^ by this, thatthpse, who ^fe ^hc^ ipo^t generous 
of their own, C£^n \>e the mqst ooyetQus for others. 

I hop* y w will ^ so good to w?, as to use your 


intereM with her, (for, whatever she says, yoa seem 
to have some), to indalge me with the extravagance 
suitable to my fortune. 

The lady you mention, that dislikes you, has no 
discernment. I really think, you may safely ven- 
ture to Amesbury, though indeed the lady here likes 
to have her own way as well as you ; which may 
sometimes occasion disputes : and I tell you before- 
hand, that I cannot take your part I think her sq 
often in the right, that you will have great difficulty 
to persuade me she is in the wrong. Then, there 
is another thing, that I ought to tell you, to deter 
you from this place; which is, that the lady of the 
house is not given to show civility to those she does 
not like. She speaks her mind, and loves truth. 
For the uncommonness of the thing, I fancy your 
curiosity will prevail over your fear ; and you will 
like to see such a woman. But I say no more till 
I know whether her grace will fill up the rest of the 


Write I must, particularly now, as I have aa 
opportunity to indulge my predominant passion, 
contradiction. I do, in the first place, contradict 
most things Mr Gay says of me, to deter you fnnn 
coming here ; which if you ever do, I hereby assure 
you, that unless I like my own way better, you 
shall have yours ; and in all disputes you shall con- 
vince me if you can. But, by what I see of you, 
this is not a misfortune that will always happen; 
for I fiild you are a great mistaken For example, 
you take prudence for imperiousness : it is from this 
first, that I determined not to like one who is too 
giddy-headed for me to be certain whether or not 
I shall ever be acquainted with. I have knowi^ 


people take gpreat delight in building castles in the 
stir; bat I should choose to build friends upon a 
more solid foundation. I would fain know you; 
for I often hear more good likeable things than it is 
possible any one can deserve. Pray come, that I 
may find out something wrong ; for I, a:nd I be- 
lieve most women, have an inconceivable pleasure 
to find out any faults except their own. Mr Gib- 
ber is made poet-laureat. 1 am, Sir, as much your 
bumble servant as I can be to any person I do not 

C. Q. 

Mr Gay is very peevish that I spell and write ill ; 
but I. do not care : for neither the pen nor I can 
do better. Besides, I think you have flattered 
me, and such people ought to be put to trouble. 

MR gay's postscript. 

Mow I hope you are pleased, and that you will al- 
low, for so small a sum as two hundred pounds^ 
you have a lumping pennyworth. 


Hague, Dec. 15, 1730. 


You need not have made any excuses to me for 

your solicitation : on the contrary, I am proud of 

being the fir^t person to whom you have thought 

H worth your while to apply, since those changes, 


which, you say, drove you into distaoce and ob« 
scurity. I very well know the person you recom* 
mend to me, having lodged at his bai»e a whole 
summer at Richmond. * I have always heard a very 
good character of him, which alone would incline 
me to serve him : but your recommendation^ I can 
assure you, will make me impatient to do it. How^ 
ever, that he may not again meet with the common 
fate of court suitors, nor I lie under the impu* 
tation of making court promises, I will exactly ex- 
plain to you how far it is likely I may be able to 
serve him. 

When first I had this office, t I took the resolu- 
tion of turning out nobody; so that I shall only 
have the dispoml of those places, that the death of 
the present possessors will procure me. Some old 
servants, that have served me long and faithfolly, 
have obtained the promises of the first four or five 
vacancies ; and the early solicitatic^M of some of my 
particular friends have tied me down for about as 
many more. But, after having satisfied those en- 
gagements, I do assure you, Mr Launcdot shall 
be my first care. I confess his prospect is more 
remote than I could have wished it, but as it is so 
remote he will not have the uneasiness of a disap- 
pointment, if he gets nothing ; and if he gets some- 
thing, we shall both be pleased. 


* Mr Lancelot, whom the Dean, in a preceding letter, had re. 
commended to Lprd Chesterfield for a place in the royal honae- 
hold. His lordship evades the request with characteriBlic polite- 
Bess. Upon the 5th Jantiarj foUowfang, the DeMi fttoms hii 
lordship a most admirabla answer in his own manner. 

f Of lord-steward of the king's household, in which he sac* 
ceeded the Duke of Dorset, appointed lotd^lleutenaat of Ire. 


As for his pcditical principles, I am in no manner 
of pain about them. Were he a tory» I wooU 
yenlure to serve him in the just expectation, that 
should I ever be charged with having preferred a 
tory, the person who was the author of way crime 
would likewise be the author of my vindication. I 
am^ with real esleem. Sir, 

Your most obedient humble servant. 



Dec. 24, 1730. 

SiNCB you, with a modest assurance, afihtn you 
uoderstsmd and practise good manners better than 
any other person in either kingdom, I wish you 
would therefore put into very handsome terms my 
excuse to Dean Swift, that I have not answered his 
letter I received before the last: for even Preben- 
dary Head assured my brother Harry, that he, in 
all form and justice, took place of a colonel, as being 
a major-general in the church ;. and therefore you 
need not have called a council to know whether 
you or I were to write last; because, as being but 
a poor courtesy lady, I can pretend to no place 
but what other people's goodness gives me. This 
being settled, I certainly ought not to have writ 
again; but however, I fear I should have been 
wrongs enough to have desired the correspondence 
to be kept up, but that I have been ill this fort- 
night, and of course lazy, and not in a writing 

]pirst, ^ to Mrs Barber; as I told you before^ 


SO I tell you the same again, that upon your recom- 
mendation, I shall be very glad to serve her, though 
I never did see her; and as I had not your letter 
till I went from Tunbridge, she passed unmarked 
by me in the crowd ; nor have I met with her since. 
She writ to me to present *****s poems to the Duke 
and Duchess of Dorset. I answered her letter, and 
obeyed her commands. And as to her own, I shall 
most willingly subscribe; though I am of the opinion 
we ladies are not apt to be good poets, especially if 
we cannot spell ; but that is by way of inviolable 
secret between you and me. So much for this 
letter. Now to your last epistle, for which it seems 
I am to'give you thanks, for honouring me with your 
commands. Well I do so, because this gets a proof, 
that after so many year's acquaintance, there is one 
that will take my word ; which is a certain sign that 
I have not often broke it. Therefore, behold the 
consequence is this ; I have given my word to the 
Duke of Dorset, that you would not so positively 
affirm this fact concerning Mr Fox, without know- 
ing the certain truth, that there is no deceit in this 
declaration of trust. And though it has been re- 
commended to him, as you say, he never did give 
any answer to it, nor designed it, till he was fully 
satisfied of the truth ; and even then, I believe, 
would not have determined to have done it, because 
it is an easy way of securing a place for ever to a 
family ; and were this to be an example, be it so 
many pence or so many pounds, for the future they 
would be inheritances. 

So now, not to show my power with his grace (in 
spite of his dependants, who may cast their eyes on 
it) for that I dare affirm there never will be need of 
where j ustice or good nature is necessary ; but to 
show you his dependance on your honour and in** 


te^niyt he gives me leave to tell you^ it shall cer- 
tainly be done ; nor does this at all oblige you to 
give the thanks you seem so desirous to give ; for 
at any time, whensoever you have any business, 
service, or request to make to his grace of Dorset 
(whether my proper business or not), till you two 
are better acquainted with one another's merits, I 
shall be very glad to show how sincerely I am 
Your friend and faithful humble servant, 

E. Geemain. 



Dec. 28, 1730. 

You mi^ht give a better reason for restoring my 
book, that it was not worth keeping. I thought by 
the superscription that your letter was writen by a 
man ; for you have neither the scrawl nor the spel- 
ling of your sex. You live so far off, and I believe 
are so seldom at home, and I am so. ill a visitor, 
that it is no wonder we meet so seldom : but if you 
knew what I say of you to others, you would believe 
it was not want of inclination ; I mean what I say 
of you as I knew you formerly ; for as to what you 
are now, I know but little. I give you the good 
wishes of the season; and am, with true esteem and 
affection, yours, &c. 

Jon. Swift. 




Mr reason for waiting on you» sMoetime ago^ w«» 
grounded on the esteem I alwajs kad for you ; which 
continued still ihe same, although I had hardly the 
least acquaintance with your lord, nor was at all 
desirous to cultivate it, because I did not at all 
approve of his conduct lu two or three days ^Ae^ 
I saw you at Sir Compton Domville's * house, all 
my acquaintance told me how full the town was of 
the visit I had made you ; and of the cruel treat- 
ment you received from me, with relation to your 
son. t I will not believe your ladyship was so 
weak as to spread, this complaint yourself : but I 
lay it wholly to those two young women who were 
then in the same room, I suppose as visitors. But, 
if you were really discontented, and thought to 
publish your discontent in aggravating wordi^ I 
must cut off at least nine-tenths of the friendship 
1 had for you, and list you in the herd of IriMi ladi^ 
whose titles, or those of their husbands, with w^ 
never have the weight of a feather, m the value of 
a pebble. I imagined you had so much sense as 
to understand, that all 1 said was intended for the 
service both of you and your son. I haive often 
spoken much more severely to per^ns of much 
higher quality than your son, and in a kingdcMa 
where to be a lord is of importance; and I have 
received hearty thanks, as well as found amendment. 

^ Lad7 Santiy's brother^D. S. t Lord Santrj.r-I>- St 


le thing I shall ohseive, apon your accooot, whic^ 
Never to throw away any more ^vice upon any 
ish lord, or his mother ; because I thought you 
E>idd be one of the last to deceive me. 
I called four times at the house where you lodge^ 
id yo>B were always denied, by which, I suppose, 
m would have me think you are angty ; whereas I 
h the person who ought to complaiii, Wmuse aSl I 
h1 said to you proceeded from friendslirp, and a 
»ire of reforming your son. But that desins is 
Qiw utterly at an end. 

Joj^. "SwiW, 


Sun. By 1750.31. 

1 RvrtfRN your lordshrp my most humble tfaanfks 
0r%he1ionour and fdcvour of your letter; and de- 
it^ your justice to believe, that, in writing to you 
tMCMd time, I have no design of giving you & 
Necefnd trouble. Mv only end at present is to beg 
^our pardon for a mnh of ignorance. I ought to 
tove remembered, that the arts of courts are like 
Shbse of play : where, if th^ most expert be absent 
for -a few months, the whole system is so changed, 
that he has no more skill than a new begiimer. 
Yet I cannot but wish^ that your lordship had 
pleased to forgive one, who has been an utter 
stranger to public life above sixteen years. Bussy 
Rabtltin himself, the politest person of his age, 
when he was recalled to court after a long banish- 
ment, appeared ridiculous there : and what could I 
expect, from my antiquated manner of addressing 


your lordship, in the prime of your life, in the heigEt 
of fortune, favour, and merit; so distinguished by 
your active spirit, and greatness of your genius? . I 
do here repeat to your lordship, that I lay the 
fault of my misconduct entirely on a friend, whom 
1 exceedingly love and esteem, whom I dare not 
name, and who is as bad a courtier by nature, as I 
am grown by want of practice. God forbid . titat 
your lordship should continue in an en^rioyment 
however great and honourable, where you only can 
be an ornament to the court so longi^ until you 
have an opportunity to provide offices for a dozen 
low people like the poor man whom I took the 
liberty to mention ! and Grod forbid, that in one 
particular branch of the king's family, there should 
ever be such a mortality, as to take away a dozen 
of his meaner servants in less than a dozen years. 

Give me leave, in farther excuse of my weakness, 
to confess, that beside some hints from my friends, 
your lordship is in great measure to blame for yaox 
obliging manner of treating me in every place where 
I had the honour to see you ; which I acknowledge 
to have been a distinction that I had not the least 
pretence to, and consequently as little to ground 
upon it the request of a favour. 

As I am an utter stranger to the present forms of 
the world, I have imagined more than once, that 
your lordship's proceeding with me may be a re- 
finement introduced by yourself; and that, as in 
nnr time the most solemn and frequent promises 
01 great men usually failed, against all probable 
appearances, so that single slight one of your lord- 
ship may, by your generous nature, early succeed 
' against all visible impossibilities. I am, &c. 

JoK. Swift. 



Jan. 17, 173041. 

I BEGIN my letter by telling you that my wife 
has been returned from abroad about a month, and 
that her health, though feeble and precarious, is 
better than it has been these two years. She is 
much your servant, and as she has been her own 
physician with some success, imagines she could 
be yours with the same. Would to God you was 
within her reach. She would I believe prescribe a 
great deal of the medieina animi, without having 
recourse to the books of Trismegistus. Pope and 
I should be her principal apothecaries in the course 
of the cure; and though our best botanists com- 
plain, that few of the herbs and simples which go 
to the composition of these remedies are to he found 
at present in our soil, yet there are more of them 
here than in Ireland; besides, by the help of a 
little chemistry, the most noxious juices may be- 
come salubrious, and rank poison specific. Pope 
is now in my library with me, and writes to the world, 
to the present and to future ages, while I begin this 
letter which he is to finish to you. What good he 
will do to mankind I know not; this, comfort he 
may be sure of, he cannot do less than you have 
done before him. I have sometimes thought, that 
if preachers, hangmen, and moral writers, keep vice 
at a stand, or so much as retard the progress of it, 
they do as much as human nature admits: a real 
reformation * is not to be brought about by ordinary 

' * BoHtigbroke has enlarged on this topic in his Philosophical 
Works^ intending to depreciate Christiaoit^i by showing that it 


means ; it requires those extraordinary means which 
become punishments as well as lessons: naticmal 
corruptioQ must be purged by natiooal calamities. 
Let us hear from you. We deserve this attention, 
becatise we desire it, and because we believe that 
you desire to hear from us. 


London^ Feb. 9^ 1730.S1* 

Dear Sib > «^ 
Among the ' many compliments I have received 
from my friends on the birth of my son, I assure 
you none gave me greater pleasure than the kind 
letter you honoured me with on the occasion. 
When you were last in England, your stay was so 
short, that I scarce had time, and very few oppor- 
tunities, to convince you how gr^it a desire i had 
to bear some share of your esteem : but, should 
yxrix return this summer, i hope you will Continue 
longer among us. Lord Bolingbroke, Lord Ba- 
4)mn^4 Pope, myself, and others of your friends, are 
got to|;ether in a country neighbourhood, which 
would be much enlivened, if you would come and 
live among us. Mrs Pulteney joins with me in the 
invitation, and is much obliged to you for remem* 
bering her. She bid me tell you, that she is deter- 
mined to have no more children, unless you wiO 

has not bad a general effect on the morals of mankind, nor pro- 
duced a real reformation ; an argnment nothing to the parpoff, 
nor any impeachment of the doctrines of the gospel ; efw iC it 
were foanded, as it certainly is not.— -*Dr Wabtoh. 



promise to come over and christen the next. You 
see how much my happiness, in many respects, de- 
pends upon your promise. I have always de- 
sired Pope, when he wrote to you, to remember 
my compliments : and I can assure you, with the 
greatest truth, though you have much older ac- 
quaintances, that you have not in England a friend 
that loves and honours you more than I do, or can 
foe with greater sincerity than I am. 

Your most humble and obedient servant, 



p. S. If any of our pamphlete (with which we 
abound) are ever sent ov^ to Ireland, and you 
think them worth reading, you will perceive 
how low they are reduced in point of argument 
on one side of the question. This has driven 
certain people to that last resort of calling names. * 
Villain, traitor, seditious rascal, and such inge- 
nious appellations, have frequently been be- 
stowed on a cdjiple of friends of yours. Such 
usage ^ has made it necessary to return the saoie 
polite language ; and there has been more Bil- 
lingsgate stuff uttered from the press within these 
two months, than ever was known j^efore. 
Upon this Dr Arbuthnot has written a very 
humorous treatise, f which he showed me this 
morning; wherein he proves, from many learned 

^ In consequence of the exchange of two Tery Tiolent and 
scnrriloQS pamphlets, a duel was fought between Puiteney and 
Lord HerVey, in which the latter was dangerously wounded. 

f Probably that published in the Miscelkineous Works of the 
late Dr Arbuthnot, at Glasgow, Vol. I. p. 40. The title of the 
ineee ii, ^^ A brief Account of Mr John Ginglicnt's Treatise con. 
ceming the Altercation or Scolding of the Ancients.''— B. 

yoL. xvxi. A a 


instances, that this sort of altercation is ancient, 
elegant and classical: and that what the world 
falsely imagines to be polite, is truly gothic and 
barbarous. He shows how the gods and god- 
desses used onS another ; dog, bitch, and whore, 
were pretty comtnon expressions among them: 
kings, heroes, ambassadors, and orators, abused 
one another much in the same way; and he 
concludes, that it is a pity this method of ob- 
jurgation should be lost. His quotations from 
Homer, Demosthenes, iEschines, and Tully are 
admirable, and the whole is very humorously 
conducted. I take it for granted, he will send 
it you himself, \ts soon as it is printed. 


Feb. My 1730.31. ' 

Now were you in vast hopes you should hear no 
more from me, I being slow in my motions : but 
do not flatter yourself; you began the conrespon- 
dence^ set my pen a-going, and God knows when it 
will end ; for I had it by inheritance from my father 
ever to please myself when I could; and though I 
do not just take the turn my mother did of fasting 
and praying ; * yet to be sure that was her pleasure 
loo, or else she would not have been so greedy of it 
I do not care to deliver your messages this great 
while to Lieutenant Head, he having been dead 

^ Lady Berkeley was of a pious and retired disposition, whik 
Ladj Belt J Germain was of a gay and Hfely temper. 



these tivo years, And though he had, as you say, 
a head, I loyed him very well ; but, however, from 
my Dame Wadgar*s* first impression, have ever 
had a natural antipathy to spirits. 

I have not acquaintance enough with Mr Pope, 
which I am sorry for, and expect you should come 
to England, in order to improve it. If it was the 
^aeen, and not the Duke of Grafton, that picked 
out such a laureat, f she deserves his poetry in her 
praises. -' 

Your friend "Mrs Barber has been here. I find 
she has some request; but neither you nor she has 
yet let it out to me what it is : for certainly you 
cannot mean that by subscribing to h^r book ; if so, 
I shall be mighty happy to have you. call that a 
favour; for surely there is nothing so easy as what 
one can do one s self, nor any thing so heavy as 
what one roust ask other people for ; though I do 
not mean by this, that I shall ever be unwilling, 
when you require it ; yet shall be much happier, 
when it is in my own power to show how sincerely 
I am my old friend's most faithful humble servant, 

£. Germain. 

Mrs Lloyd is much yours; but dumber than ever, 
having a violent cold. 

• The deaf housekeeper at Lord Berkeley's*— H. 
f Colley Gibber.— H. 

..V . . 



r ' 


March W. 1730.31. 

t THINK it is above three months since I wrote 
to you, in partnership with ^ibit. diichess. About a 
fortnight since I wrote to you from Twickenham, 
for Mr Pope and myself. He "was then disabled 
from writing, by a severe rheumatic pain in his 
arm ; but is pretty well again, and' at present in 
town. Lord Oxford, Lord Bathurst, he, and I, 
dined together yesterday at Barnes, with old Jacob 
Tonson, where we drank your health. I am again, 
by the advice of physicians, grown a moderate wine- 
drinker, after an abstinence of above two years; 
and now look upon myself as qualified for socidjr 
as before. 

I formerly sent you a state of the accounts between 
us. Lord Bathurst. has this day paid me yoor 
principal and interest. The interest amount^ to 
twelve pounds, and I want your directions how to 
dispose of the principal, which must lie dead, till I 
receive your orders. I had a scheme of buying two 
lottery tickets for you, and keeping your principal 
entire. And as all my good fortune is to come, to 
show you that I consult your advantage, I will buy 
two more for myself, and you and I will go halves 
in the ten thousand pounds. That there will be a 
lottery is certain : the scheme is not yet declared, 
but 1 hear it will not be the most advantageous 
one; for we are to have but three pounds ftr 

I solicit for no court favours, so that I propose to 
buy the tickets at the market-price, when they come 
out^ which will not be these two or three months. 

■* Jt- 

* * . 

I- - ♦ ^ * 

.» " ■ f- 

•f • »'^ . « 



If you do not like to have your money thus disposed 
of; or if you like to trust to your own fortune rather 
thaii to sliare in mine, let nae have your orders ; and 
at the same time, tell me what I shall do with thq 
principal sum. 

• I came to town the 7th of January last, with the 
duke and duchess, ab<»ut business, for a fortnight. 
As it depended upon others, we could not get it 
done till now. Next week we return to Amesbury 
in Wiltshire, for the rest of the year ; but the best 
way i» always to direct to me at the duke's, in Bur- 
lington Gardens, near Piccadilly. I am ordered by 
the duchess to grow rich in the manner of Sir John 
Cutler. I have nothing, at this present writing, 
but my frock that was made at Salisbury, and a 
bob periwig. I persjiade myself that it is shilling 
j^eather * as seldom as possible ; and have found out, 
that there are few court visits that are worth a shil- 
ling. In short, I am very happy in my present 
independency. I envy no man ; but have the due 
contempt of voluntary slaves of birth and fortune. 
I have such a spite against you, that I wish you 
may long for my company, as I do for yours. 
Though you never write to me, you cannot make 
ine forget you ; so that if it is out of friendship you 
write so seldom to me, it does not answer the pur- 
pose. Those who you like should remember you, 
do so whenever I see them. 1 believe they do it 
upon their own account; for I know few people 
who are solicitous to please or flatter me. The 
duchess sends you her compliments, and so would 
many more, if they knew of my writing to you. 

P A phrase of the Dean's, to ezpres3 weather which rendered 
a hackney -coach necessary. 




March 29, 1T31. 

I HAVE delayed several posts answering your 
letter of January last, in hopes of being able to 
speak to you about a project which concerns us 
both, but me the most, since the success of it 
would bring us together. It has been a good while 
in my head, and at my heart ; if it can be set a^eoing, 
you shall hear of it. I was ill in the beginmng of 
the winter for near a week, but in no danger either 
from the nature of my distemper, or from the at- 
tendance of three physician^. Since that bilious 
intermitting fever, I have had, as I had before, better 
health than the regard I have paid to health deserves. 
We are both in the decline of life, my dear Dean, 
and have been some years going do'wn the hill ; let 
lis make the passage as smooth as we can. Let us 
fence against physical evil by care, and the use of 
those means which experience must have pointed 
out to us : let us fence against moral evil by philo- 
sophy. I renounce the alternative you propose. 
But we may, nay, (if we will follow nature, and do 
not work up imagination against her plainest dic- 
tates) we shall of course grow every year more io- 
different to life, and to the affairs and interests of a 
system out of which we are soon to go. This is 
xnuch better than stupidity. The decay of passion 
strengthens philosophy, for passion may decay, and 
stupidity not succeed. Passions (says Pope, our 
divine, as you will see one time or other) are the 
gales of life; let us not complain that they do not 
blow a storm. What hurt does age do us, in sub- 


luing what we toil to subdue all our lives ? It is 
low six in the morning ; I recal the time (and am 
i;lad it is over) when about this hour I used to be 
joing to bed, surfeited with {Measure, or jaded with 
)usiness : my head often full of schemes, and my 
leart as often full of anxiety. Is it a misfortune, 
hink you, that I rise at this hour, refreshed, serene, 
uid calm? that the past, and even the present affairs 
>f life stand like objects at a distance from me, 
Nhere I can keep off the disagreeable so as not to be 
itrongly affected by them, and from whence I can 
Iraw the others nearer to me ? Passions in their force 
ivould bring all these, nay, even future contingen- 
cies, about my ears at once, and reason would but 
ill defend me in the scuffle. 

I leave Pope to speak for himself, but I must tell 
jrou how much my wife is obliged to you. She says 
she would find strength enough to nurse you, if you 
were here, and yet God knows, she is extremely 
weak : the slow fever work? under, and mines the 
constitution -, we keep it off sometimes, but still it 
returns, and makes new breaches before nature can 
repair the old ones. I am not ashamed to say to 
you, that'i admire her more every hour of my life : 
Death is not to her the king of terrors ; she beholds 
him without the least. When she suffers much, 
she wishes for him as a deliverer from pain ; when 
life is tolerable^ she looks pn him with dislike, 
because he is to separate her from those friends to 
whom she is more attached than to life itself. * You 

* She was niece to Madame de Maintenon, educated at St 
Cyr, and was a woman of a beautiful persoDi and Tery 
af^reeable manners. Her letters are written in Terj elegant 
French. She was a woman of much observation. Madame de 



shall not stay for my next as long as you have for 
this letter; and in every one Pope shall write some- 
thing much better than the scraps of old philoso- 
phers, which were the presents, munuscula, that 
stoical fop Seneca used to send in every epistle to 
his friend Lucilius. 

p. S. BY MR POPE. 

My lord has spoken justly of his lady : why not 
I of my mother ? Yesterday was her birth-day, 
now entering on the ninety-first year of her age ; 
her memory much diminished, but her senses very 
little hurt, her sight and hearing good ; she sleeps 
not ill, eats moderately, drinks water, says her 
prayers ; and this is all she does. I have reason to 
thank God for continuing so long to me a very good 
and tender parent, and jfor allowing me to exercise 
for some years, those cares which are now as neces- 
sary to her as hers have been to me. An object 
of this sort daily before one's eyes very much softens 
the mind, but, perhaps, may hinder it from the 
willingness of contracting other ties of the like 
domestic nature, when one finds how painful it is 
even to enjoy the tender pleasures. I have formerly 
made so strong efforts to get and to deserve a friend : 
perhaps it were wiser never to attempt it, but live 
extempore, and look upon the world only as a place 
to pass through, just pay your hosts their due, dis- 
perse a little charity, and hurry on. Yet am I ju^ 

MainteDon mentions her in her. letters. Dr Trapp told me, 
that Lord Bolingbrokc, boasting one day of his former ^lantries, 
she (aid to him, smiling, *< When 1 look at you, methinks 1 see 
the ruins of a fine old Roman aqueduct \ but the water has ceased 
to flow."— Dr Wartow. 


now writing (or rather planning) a book, ♦ to make 
mankind look upon this life with comfort and plea- 
sure, and put morality in good humour. And just 
now too, I am going to see one I love very ten- 
derly; and to-morrow to entertain several civil 
people, whom if we call friends, it is by the cour- 
tesy of England. Sic, sic juvat ire sub umbras, f 
While we do live, we must make the best of life. 

'^ CantatUes licet usque (mians tU laedat) camus,'* X 

as the shepherd said in Virgil, when the road was 
long and heavy. I am yours. 



You may assure yourself, that if you come over 
this spring, you will find me not only got back into 
the habits of study, but devoted to that historical 
task, which you have set me these many years. I 
am in hopes of some materials which will enable 
me to work in the whole extent of the plan I pro- 
pose to myself. If they are not to be had,^ I must 
accommodate my plan to this deficiency. In the 

* He means his ^^ Essay on Man ;'' and alludes to the argn« 
ments he uses i6 make men satisfied even with their present 
state, without looking to another. Young wrote his ^' Night 
Thoughts'* in direct opposition to this view of human life, but 
which, in truth. Young has painted in colours too dark and un. 
comfortable. — Dr Wauton, 

•f ^^ Thus, thus it pleases us to pass through life." — S. 

% ^^ Let us still go singing on^ to beguile the tediousness of 
the way.*'— S. 


mean time Pope has given me more trouble than 
he or I thought of; and you will be surprised 
to find that I have been partly drawn by him, and 
partly by myself, to write a pretty large volume 
upon a very grave and very important subject: 
that I have ventured to pay no regard whatever to 
any authority except a sacred authority^ and that I 
have ventured to start a thought which must, if it 
is pushed as successfully as I think it is, render all 
your metaphysical theology both ridiculous and 
abominable. There is an expression in one of your 
letters to me, which makes me believe you will 
come into my way of thinking on this subject ; and 
yet I am persuaded that divines and freethinkers 
would both be clamorous against it, if it was to be 
submitted to their censure^ as I do not intend that 
it shall. The passage I mean, is that, where 
you say you told Dr Delany the grand points of 
Christianity ought to be taken as infallible reve* 
lation, &c. * 

It happened that while I was writing this to you 
the Doctor came to make me a visit from London, 
where I heard he was arrived some time ago : he 
was in haste to return, and is I perceive in great 
haste to print. He left with me eight Disserta* 

* In this maxim all bigoted diTines and free-thinking politic 
cians agree : the one, for fear of disturbing the established re- 
ligion ; the other, lest that disturbance should proTe injorioiis to 
their administration of the state. And would they be conteot to 
take these points for granted themseWcs, without injuring those 
in their fortunes and reputations, who are for inquiring into and 
settling them on their right grounds, I think nobody would eoTj 
their piety or their wisdom : but when they begin to persecute 
those who Tenture to assume this natural liberty, then they un- 
mask their hypocrisy and MachiaTelianism*— > Warburtoii. 



ttons, * a small part, as I understand, of his work 
and desired me to peruse, consider, and observe 
upon them against Monday next, when he will 
come down again. By what I have read of the 
two first I find myself unable to serve him. The 
principles he reasons upon are begged in a dispu- 
tation of this sort, and the manner of reasoning is 
by no means close and conclusive. The sole ad- 
vice I could give him in conscience would be, that 
which he would take ill and not follow. I will get 
rid of this task as well as I can, for I esteem the 
fnan, and should be sorry to disoblige him where I 
cannot serve him. 

As to retirement, and exercise, your notions areA 
true: the first should not be indulged so much«as 
to render us savage, nor the last neglected so as to 
impair health. But I know men, who, for fear of 
being savage, live with all who live with them; 

^ The work here alluded to, was the first Tolume of Dr De. 
bny*s ^^ Revelation Examined with Candour,** published l7di ^ 
a work written in a florid and decfamatory style, an^Bith a 
greater degree of learning and ingenuity than of souiiH[|asoa 
and argument. The same may be said of this author's ^^ Life of 
King David." Witness the first dissertation on tUk forbidden 
fruit ; the second, concerning the knowledge of the brute world 
conveyed to Adam ; the third, of the knowledge of marriage 
given to Adam ; the sixth, concerning the difficulties and ob^ 
jections that lie against the Mosaic account of the fall ; the fif- 
teenth, on some difficulties relating to Noah^s ark considered. 
The best of his works seems to be his *^ Reflections on Polygamy." 
Dr Delany was an amiable, benevolent, and virtuous man ; a 
character far superior to that of the ablest controversial writer. 
His Defence of Revelation is of a very difierent cast from such 
solid and masterly works as the Bishop of Llandafi^'s '^ Apology 
for the Bible," and Archdeacon Paley's *^ Evidences of Christi- 
anity. — Dr Warton. 


and who, to preserve their health, saunter away 
half their time. Adieu : Pope calls for the paper. 

p. S. BY MR POPE. 

I hope what goes before will be a strong motiv<e 
to your coming* God knows if ever I shall see 
Ireland : I shall never desire it, if you can be got 
hither, or keep here. Yet I think 1 shall be, too 
soon, a free man. * Your recommendations I con- 
stantly give to those you mention : though some of 
them I see but seldom, and am every day more 
retired. I am less fond of the world, and less 
curious about it ; yet no way out of humour, dis- 
w appointed, or angry ; though in my way I receive 
as many injuries as my better?: but I do not fed 
them, therefore I ought not to vex other people, 
nor even to return injuries. I pass almost all my 
time at Dawley and at home ; my lord (of which I 
partly take the merit to myself) is as much estranged 
from politics as I am. Let philosophy be ever so 
vain, it is less vain now than politics, and not quite 
so vain at present as divinity : I know nothing that 
moves strongly but satire, and those who are 
ashamed of nothing else are so of being ridiculous. 
I WBcy if we three were together but for three 
years, some good might be done even upon this 

I know you will desire some account of my 
health : It is as usual, but my spirits rather worse. 
I write little or nothing. You know I never had 
either taste or talent for politics, and the world 
minds nothing else. I have personal obligations. 

* By his mother's death. 

'bpi»olary corrbspondbncs. 381 


• « 

which I' will ever preserve, to men of diflferetit sides; 
aoui I wish mottling so much as public quiet, ex- 
cept it be my oWn quiet. I think it a merit if I can 
take off any man from grating or satirical subjects 
merMy on the score of party : and it is the greatest 
vanity of my life that I have contributed to turn 
njy Ix)rd Bolingbroke to subjects moral, useful, 
and* more worthy his pen. Dr Delany's book 
is what I cannot commend so much as Dean Berke- 
ley%* though it has many things ingenious in it, 
and is m^ deficient in the wtiting part : but the 
wholie book, though he meantjt a<//>o/iti/um, is. If 
thinjc, purely'arf clerum. Adieu. 


Dublin, April 13, I73l. 

Your situation is an odd one; the duchess is 
your treasurer, and Mr Pope tells me you are the 
duke^s. And I had gone a good way in some 
verses on that occasion, prescribing lessons to di- 
rect your conduct, in a negative way, not to do so 
and so, &c., like other treasurers; how to deal 
with servants, tenants, or neighbouring squires. 

* A \ery lively and ingenious b#ok, called, '^ The minate 
Philosopher.*' — Wauburton. A book that deserves a much 
higher encomium than being lioelif and ingenious ; as contain* 
ing, perhaps, a stronger defence of Revelation than the ^^ Divine 
Legation of Moses."— Dr WAaxox. 

' •• 


which I take to be coartiers, parliaments, and 
princes in alliance, and so the parallel goes 'on, hut 
grows too long to please me : * I \)rove that poets 
are the fittest persons to be treasurers and managers 
to great persons, from their virtue and contempt 

of money, &c. ^Pray, why did you "not get a ntfw 

heel to your shoe? unless you would make your 
court at St James's by affecting to imitate "the 

Prince of Lilliput. But the resX of your letter 

being wholly taken up in a v6ry bad character ojf 
the duchess, I shall say no more to yon, but apply 
myself to her grace. 

Since Mr Gay affirms that you love to have 
your own way, and since I have the ^same perfec- 
tion ; I will settle that matter immediately, to pre- 
vent those ill consequences h^ apprehends. Your 
grace shall have your own way, in all places except 
your own house, and the domains about it. There, 
and there only, I expect to have mine, so that you 
have all the world to reign in, bating only two or 
three hundred acres, and two or three houses in 
town or country. I will likewise, out of my special 
g^ce, certain knowledge, and mere motion, allow 
you to be in the right against all human kind, ex- 
cept myself, and to be never in the wrong bat 
when you differ from me. You shall have a greater 
privilege in the third article of speaking your mind: 
which I shall graciously allow you now and then to 
do even to myself, and only rebuke you when it 
does not please me. 

* See liis epistk to Gay, VoL XIV. p. 369. 


* Madam, I am now got as far as your grace*s 
' tetter, which having not read this fortnight (havinf^ 
been out of town, and not daring to trust myself 
with the carriage of it) the presumptuous mahner in 
which you begin had slipped out of my memory. 
' But I forgive you to the seventeenth line, where 
you begin to banish me for ever, by demanding^ 
me to answer all the good character some partial 
friends have give me. Madam, I have lived six- 
teen years in Ireland, with only an intermission of 
two summers in England; and, consequently, am 
fifty years older than I Was at the queen's deaths 
and fifty thousand times duller, and fifty millions 
times more peevish, perverse, and morose; so that 
under these disadvantages I can only pretend to 
excel air your ^ther acquaintance about some 
twenty bats length; Pray, madam, have you a 
clear voice ? and will you Jet me sit at your left 
hand at least within three of you, for of two bad 
ears, my right is the best? My groom tells me 
that he likes your park, but your house is too little* 
Can the parson of the parish play at backgammon, 
and hold his tongue ? is any one of your women a 
good nurse, if I should fancy myself sick for four- 
and-twenty hours ? how many days will you main- 
tain me and my equipage? When these prelimi- 
naries are settled, I must be very poor, very sick, 
or dead, or to the last degree unfortunate, if I do 
not attend you at Amesbuiy. For, I profess, you 
are the first lady that ever I desired to see, since the 
first of August 1714,* and I have forgot the date 
when that desire grew strong upon me, but I know 
. I was not then in England, else I would have gone 

* The date of Queen Anne's death. 



on ibot for that happiness as far as to your house 
in Scotland. But I can soon recollect the time, 
by asking some ladies here the month, the day/ 
and the hour when I began to endure their com- 
pany ? which, however, I think was a sign of my 
ill judgment, for I do not perceive they ai6nd i^ 
any thing but envying or admiring your grace. 
I dislike nothing in your letter but an affected 
apology for bad writing, bad spelling, and a bad 
pen; which you pretend Mr Gay found fauh 
with; wherein you affront Mr Gay, you affront 
me, and you affront yourself. Fsdse spelling is 
only excusable in a chambermaid, for J[ would 
not pardon it in any of your waiting- women. 
Pray God preserve your grace and family, and 
give me leave to expect that you will be so just to 
remember me among those who have the greatest 
regard for virtue, goodness, prudence, courage, and 
generosity: after which you must conclude that I 
am, with the greatest respect and gratitude, madam, 
your grace's most obedient and most humble ser- 
vant^ &c. 


I have just got vours of February 24, with a 
postscript by Mr ^ope. I am in great concern 
for him; I find Mr Pope dictated to you the first 
part, and with great difficulty some days after added 
the rest. I see his weakness by his hand-writing. 
How much does his philosoph v exceed mine ? I 
could not bear to see him : I will write to him soon. 



April 21, 1731. 

» Drar Sir„ 

The fortune of the person jrou interest yourself 
in amounts to at present (all debts paid) about three 
thousand four hundred pounds; so that, whatever 
other people think, I look upon him, as to fortune, 
to be happy ; that is to say, an independent crea- 
ture. I have been in expectation, post after post, 
to have received your directions about the disposal 
of your money, which Lord Bathurst paid into my 
hands some time ago. I left that sum, with 2001. 
of my own, in Mr Hoare's hands at my coming out 
of town. If I hear nothing from you, I shall do 
with it, as I do with my own. I made you a pro- 
posal about purchasing lottery tickets, in partner- 
ship with myself; that is to say, four tickets between 
us. This can be done with the overplus, with the 
interest money I have received ; but in this I wiH 
do nothing till I hear from you. 

I am now got to my residence at Amesbury; 
getting health, and saving money. Since 1 have 
s;ot over the impediment to a writer, of water-drink- 
mg, if I can persuade myself that I have any wit, < 
and find I have inclination, I intend to write ; though, 
as yet, I have another impediment : for I have not 
provided myself with a scheme. Ten to one but I 
shall have a propensity to write against vice, and 
who can tell how far that may ofTend ? But aii au- 
thor should consult his genius, rather than his inte- 
rest, if he cannot reconcile them. Just before I left 
London, I made a visit to Mrs Barber. I wish I 
could any wise have contributed to her subscription. 

VOL. xvn. B b ^ 

4> ■ 



I have always found myself of no consequence, and 
am now of less than ever ; but I have found out a 
way, in one respect, 6f making myself of more con- 
sequence, which is by considering other people of 
less. Those .who have given me up, I have given 
up ; and in short, I seek after no friendships, but 
am content with what I have in the house. And 
they have subscribed, and I proposed it before Jo. 
Taylor; who, upon hearing she was a friend of 
yours, offered his subscription, and desired his com- 
pliments to you. I believe she has given you an 
account that she has some prospect of success from 
other recommendations to those I know ; and Ihave 
not been wanting upon all occasions to put in my 
good word, which I fear avails but little. Two days 
ago I received a letter from Dr Arbuthnot, which 
gave me but a bad account of Mr Pope's health. 
1 have writ to him ; but have not heard from him 
since I came into the country. If you knew the 
pleasure you gave me, you would Keep your con- 
tract of writing more punctually; and especially 
you would have answered my last letter, as it was 
about a money affair, and you have to do with a 
man of business. 

Your letter was more to the duchess than to me ; 
so I now leave off, to offer her the paper. 


It was Mr Gay's fault that I did not write sooner; 
which if I had, 1 should hope you would have been 
here by this time ; for I have to tell you, all your 
articles are agreed to ; and that I only love my own 
way^ when I meet not with others whose ways I 
like better. I am in great hopes that I shall ap- 
prove of yours ; for, to tell you the truth, I am at 
present a little tired of my own. I have not a dear 



or distinct voice, except when I am angry ; but I 
am a very good nurse, when people do not fancy 
themselves sick. Mr Gay knows this; and he 
knows too how to play at backgammon. Whether 
the parson of the parish can, I know not ; but if he 
cannot hold his tongue, I. can. Pray set out the 
first feir wind, and stay with us as long as ever you 
please* I cannot name any fixed time that I shall 
like to maintain you and your equipage; but, if I 
do not happen to like you, I know I can so far go- 
vern my temper, as to endure you for about five 
days. So come away directly ; at all hazards, you 
will be allowed a good breathing time. I shall make 
no sort of respectful conclusions ; for till I know you, 
I cannot tell what I am to you. 


The direction is to the Duke of Queensberry*s, 
in Burlington Gardens, Piccadilly. Now I have 
told you this, you have no excuse from writing but 
one, which is coming ; get over your lawsuit, and 
receive your money. 

The duchess adds, " He shall not write a word 
more from Amesbury, in Wiltshire. Your groom 
was mistaken ; for the house is big enough, but the 
park is too little." 


April 19, I73h 

I NEVER designed to have written to you any 
more, because you bantered and abused me so gross-* 
ly in your last. To flatter a m^n from whom you 


can get nothing, nor expect any thing, is doing 
mischief for mischief sake, and consequently highly 
immoral. However I will not carry my resentments 
so far, as to stand by and see you undone, without 
giving you both notice and advice. Could any man 
but you think of trusting John Gay with his money? 
None of his friends would ever trust him with his 
own whenever they could avoid it. He has called 
in the 2001. I had of yours : I paid him both prin- 
cipal and interest. I suppose by this tinae he has 
lost it. I give you notice, you must look upon it 
as annihilated. 

Now, as I have considered^ your deanery brings 
you in little or nothing, and that you keep servants 
and horses, and frequently give little neat dinoers, 
which are more expensive than a few splendid en- 
tertainments ; beside which, you may be said to 
water your flock with French wine, which altoge- 
ther must consume your substance in a little while; 
I have thought of putting you in a method that yoa 
may retrieve your affairs. In the first place, yon 
must turn off* all your servants, and sell your horses; 
I will find exercise for you. Your whole family 
must, consist of only one sound wholesome wench. 
She will make your bed, and warm it ; beside wash- 
ing your linen, and mending it, darning your stock- 
ings, &c. But to save all expehce in housekeep- 
^^gi yo^ must contrive some way or other, that 
she should have milk ; and I can assure you, it is 
the opinion of some of the best physicians, that 
women's milk is the wholesomest fooa in the world. 

Besides, this regimen, take it altogether, will cer- 
tainly temper and cool your blood. You will not 
be such a botiiefeuj as you have been; and be 
ready, upon every trifling occasion, to set a whole 
kingdom in a flame. Had the Drapier been a milk- 


sop, poor Wood had not suffered so much in his 
reputation and fortune. It will allay that fervour 
of blood, and qui^t that hurry of spirits, which 
breaks out every now and then into poetry, and 
seems to communicate itself to others of the chap- 
ter. You would not then encourage Delany and 
Stopford in their idleness, but let them be as grave 
as most of their order are with us. I am convinced 
they will sooner get preferment then, than in .the 
way they now are. And 1 shall not be out of hopes 
of seeing you a bishop in time ; when you live in 
that regular way, which I shall propose. In short, 
in a few years, you may lay up money enough to 
buy even the bishoprick of Durham. For, if you 
keep cows instead of horses, in that high-walled 
orehard, and cultivate by your owa industry a few 
potatoes in. your garden, the maid will live well, 
and be able to sell more butter and cheese, than 
will answer her wages. You may preach then up- 
on temperance with a better grace, than now, that 
you are known to consume seven or eight hogsheads 
of wine every year of your life. You will be mild 
and meek in your conversation, and not frighten 
parliament-inen, and keep even lord-lieutenants in 
awe. You will then be qualified for that slavery, 
which the country you live in, and the order you 
profess, seem to be designed for. It will take off 
that giddiness in your head, which has disturbed 
yourself arid others. The disputes between Sir Ar- 
thur * and my lady, will for the future be confined 

* Sir Arthur Acheson, at whose scat, in a Tillage called Mar. 
ket-hill, in Ireland, the Dean sometimes made a long Tisit* The 
dispqte between Sir Arthur and my l^v, here alluded to, is whe- 
ther Uamiiton's bawn should be turned into a barrack, or a malt* 



to prose; and an old thorn may be cut down in 
peace, and warm the parlour chimney, without beat- 
ing the heads of poor innocent people, and turning 
their brains. 

You ought to remember what St Austin says, 
Poesis est vinum damonnm. Consider the life yoo 
now lead : you warm all that come near you with 
your wine and conversation; and the rest of the 
world, with your pen dipped deep in St Austin's 
vinum danumum. 

So far for your soul's health. Now, as to the 
health of your body : I must inform you, that part 
of what I prescribe to you, is the same which oor 
great friar Bacon prescribed to the Pope who lired 
in his days. Read his Cure of Old Age, and Pre- 
servation of Youth, chapter the 12th. You used 
to say, that you found benefit from riding. The 
French, an ingenious people, used the word ehe- 
■vaucher, instead of monter a cheval^ and they look 
upon it as the same thing in effect. 

Now, if you will go on after this, in your <dd 
ways, and ruin your health, your fortune, and your 
reputation, it is no fault of mine. I have pointed 
out the road which will lead you to riches and pre- 
ferment ; and that you may have no excuse from 
entering into this new course of life, upon pretence 
of doubting whether you can get a person pr<qierly 
qualified to feed yon, and compose your new fiuni- 
ly, I will recommend you to John Gay, who is much 
better qualified to bring increase from a woman, 
than from a sum of money. But if he should be 

house ? The Old Thorn b that cut down at Market-hiU, the 
subject of a littie poem written hj Swift.— See Vol. XV. p. 


lazy (and he is so fat, that there is some reason to 
doubt him,) I will without fail supply you myself, 
that you may be under no disappointments. Brae- 
ton says, Conjunctio maris et fcemin^e est jure natu- 
ra. Vide Coke upon Littleton. Calvin's case,, 1st 
vol. Reports. 

This I send you from my closet at Richkings,* 
where I am at leisure to attend serious affairs ; but 
when one is in town, there are so many things to 
laugh at, that it is very difficult to compose one's 
thoughts, even long enough to write a letter of ad- 
vice to a friend. If I see any man serious in that 
crowd, I look upon him for a very dull or designing 
fellow. By the bye, I am of opinion, that folly and 
cunning are nearer allied than people are aware of. 
If a fool runs out his fortune, and is un'done, we 
say, the poor man has been outwitted. Is it not as 
reasonable to say of a cunning rascal, who has lived 
miserably, and died hated and despised, to leave a 
great fortune behind him, that he has outwitted 
himself? In short, to be serious about those trifles^ 
which the majority of mankind think of conse- 
quence, seems to me to denote folly ; and to trifle 
with those things which they generally treat ludi- 
crously, may denote knavery. I have observed that 
in comedy, the best actor plays the. part of the droll, 
while some scrub rogue is made the hero, or fine 
gentleman. So, in this farce of life, wise men pass 
their time in mirth, while fools only are serious. 
Adieu. Continue to be merry and wise ; but never 
turn serious, or cunning. 

* A seat of his lordship's^ in Buckioghamshire.^B« 




Ameebuiy, April 27, 173L. . 

Dear Sir, 
Yours without a dale I received two days after 
nay return to this place from London, where I stay- 
ed only four days. I saw Mr Pope, who is much 
better : I dined with him at Lord Oxford's ; who 
never fails drinking your health, and is always yeiy 
inquisitive after every thing that concerns you. Mr 
Pulteney had received your letter, and seemed veiy 
much pleased with it ; and I thought you very much 
too in the good graces of the lady. Sir William 
Wyndham, who you will by this time have heard 
has buried Lady Catherine, was at Dawley in great 
affliction. Dr Arbuthnot I found in good health 
and spirits. His neighbour Mr Lewis was gone to 
Bath. Mrs Patty Blount I saw two or three times; 
who will be very much pleased when she knows 
you so kindly remember her. I am afraid Mrs 
Howard will not be so well satisfied with the com- 
pliments you send her. I breakfasted twice with 
her at Mrs Blount's, and she told me, that her in- 
disposition had prevented her answering your letter. 
This she desired me to tell you, that she would write 
to you soon ; and she desires you will accept of her 
compliments in the meantime by me. You should 
consider circumstances before you censure. It will 
be too long for a letter to make her apology ; bat 
when 1 see you, 1 shall convince you that you mis- 
take her. • This day before I left London, I gave 

♦ See lAdy Betty Gennain's Letters^ of Not. 7, 17S2; mA 
Febi8, 1732.S.— H.- . 


orders for buying two South-sea or India bonds for 
you, which carry 4/, per cent and are as easily 
turned into ready money as bank bills, which, by 
this time, I suppose is done. 1 shall go to London 
again for a few days in about a fortnight or three 
weeks, and then I will take care of the twelve pound 
affair with Mrs Launcelot, as you direct ; or, if I 
hear of Mr Pope's being in town, I will do it soon- 
er, by a letter to him. When I was in town (after 
a bashful fit, for having writ something like a love- 
letter, and in two years making one visit,) I writ to 
Mrs Drelincourt, to apologise for my behaviour, 
and received a civil answer, but had not time to see 
her J they are naturally very civil : so that I am not 
80 sanguine to interpret this as any encouragement. 
I find by Mrs Barber, that she very much interests 
herself in her affair ; and indeed from every body 
who knows her she answers the character you first 
gave me. 

Whenever you come to England, if you will put 
that confidence in me to give me notice, I will meet 
you at your landing-place, and conduct you hither. 
You have experience of me as a traveller ; and I pro- 
mise you, I will not drop you on the road for any 
visit whatever. Ton tell me of thanks that I have 
not given. I do not know what to say to people 
wiio will be perpetually laying one under obliga- 
tions: my behaviour to you, shall convince you 
that I am very sensible of them, though I never 
. once mention them. I look upon you as my best 
friend and counsellor. I long for the time when we 
shall meet and converse together. I will draw you 
into no great company, beside those I live with. 
In short, if you insist upon it, I will give up all 
great company for yours. These are conditions 
that I can hardly think, you will insist upony after 


your declarations to the duchess, who is more and 
more impatient to see you : and all my fear is, thai 
you will give up me for her, which aner my nogal- 
lant declaration, would be very ungenerous. Bat 
we will settle this matter together when you eome 
to Amesbury. After all, I find I have been saying 
nothing ; for, speaking of her, I am talking as if I 
were in my own power. You used to blame me 
for over-solicitude about myself. I am now grown 
so rich, that I do not think myself worth thinking 
on : so that I will promise you never to mention 
myself, or my own affairs; but you owed it -all to 
the inquisitiveness of your friendship ; and ten to 
one but you will every now and then draw me in to 
talk of myself again. I sent you a gross state of 
my fortune already. I have not room to draw it 
out in particulars. When you come over, the 
duchess will state it you. I have left no room for 
her to write, so that I will say nothing till my letter 
is gone ; but she would not forgive me, if I did not 
send her compliments. 


April 28, 1731. 

YouB letter has lain by me without acknowledg- 
ing it, longer than I intended ; not for want of ci- 
vility, but because I was wholly at a loss what to 
say ; for, as your scheme of thinking, conversing, 
and living, differs in every point diametrically fipom 
mine, so I think myself the most improper person 
in the world to converse or correspond with you. 
You would be glad to be thought a pfoud man^ and 



yet there is not a grain of pride in you: for, you 
are pleased that people should know you have been 
acquainted with persons of great names and titles, 
nehereby you confess, that you take it for an ho- 
nour ; which a proud man never does : and besides, 
you run the hazard of not being 'believed. You 
•went abroad, and strove to engage yourself in a des- 
perate cause, very much to the damage of your for- 
tune, and might have been to the danger of your 
life, if there had not been, as it were, a combination 
of some, who would not give creditto the account 
you gave of your transactions; and of others, who 
either really, or pretending to believe you, have gi- 
ven you out as a dangerous person ; of which last 
notion I once hinted something to you: because, 
if what you repeated of youreelf were true, it was 
necessary that you had either made your peace, or 
must have been prosecuted for high treason. The 
reputation (if there be any,) of having been ac- 
quainted with princes, and other great persons, arises 
from its being generally known to othei*s, but never 
once mentioned by ourselves, if it can possibly be 
avoided. I say this perfectly for your service ; be- 
cause an universal opinion, among those who know 
or have heard of you, that you have always prac- 
tised a direct contrary proceeding, has done you 
more hurt, than your natural understanding, left 
to itself, could ever have brought upon you. The 
world will never allow any man that character which 
he gives to himself, by openly confessing it to those 
with whom he converses. Wit, learning, valour, 
great acquaintance, the esteem of good men, will 
be known, although we should endeavour to conceal 
them, however they may pass unrewarded ; but, I 
doubt, our own bare assertions, upon any of those 
points, will very little avail, except in tempting the 


hearers to judge directly contrary to what we ad- 
vance. Therefore, at this season of your life, I 
should be glad you would act after the conunon 
custom of mankind, and have done with thoughts 
of courts, of ladies, of lords, of politics, and all 
dreams of being important in the world. I am glad 
your country life has taught you Latin, of which 
you were altogether ignorant when I knew you 
first ; and I am astonished how you came to recover 
it. Your new friend Horace will teach you many 
lessons agreeable to what I have said, for which I 
could refer to a dozen passages in a few minutes. 
I should be glad to see the house wholly swept of 
these cobwebs ; and that you would take an oath, 
never to mention a prince or princess, a foreign or 
domestic lord, an intrigue of state or of love ; but 
suit yourself to the climate and company where 
your prudence will be to pass the rest of your life. 
It is not a farthing matter to you what is doing in 
Europe, more than to every alderman who reads the 
news in a coffeehouse. It you could resolve to act 
thus, your understanding is good enough to qualify 
you for any conversation in this kingdom. Families 
will receive you without fear or restraint ; nor watch 
to hear you talk ia the. grand style, laugh when you 
are gone, and to. all their acquaintance.' It is 
a happiof^ that this quality may, by a man of iiense, 
be as easily shaken on* as it is acquired, especially 
when be has no proper claim to it ; for you were 
not bred to be a man of business ; you never were 
called to any employments at courts ; but destined 
to be a private gentleman, to entertain yourself 
with country business and country acquaintance;; 
/or, at best, with books of amusement in your own 
'.language. It is an uncontrolled truths that no man 

* 'r - 



ever made an ill figure who understood his own 
talents, nor a good one who mistook them. 

I am, &c. 

JoN. Swift. 


Jane 5y 1731. 

I FANCY you have comforted yourself a long time 
with the hopes of hearing no more from me ; but 
you may return your thanks to a downright fit of 
die gout in my foot, and as painful a rheumatism 
that followed immediately after in my arm, which 
bound me to my good behaviour. So you may 
perceive I should make a sad nurse to Mr Pope, 
who finds the eflfects of age and a crazy carcase 
already. However, if it is true what I am inform- 
ed, that you are coming here soon, I expect you 
should bring us together ; and if he will bear me 
with patience, I shall hear him with pleasure 

I do not know what number of chaplains the 
Duke of Dorset intends to carry over ; but, as yet, 
I have heard of but one that he has sent, and he as 
worthy, honest, sensible a man> as any I know, Mr 
Brandreth, who, I believe, was recommended to 
your acQuaintance. I have not .been in a way of 
seeing Mrs Barber this great while ; but I hear (and 
I hope it is so) that she goes on in her subscription 
very well; nor has the lady she so much feared 
done her any harm, if she endeavoured it, which is 
more than I know that she did. I believe you will 
find by my writing, that it is not quite easy to me, 



SO I will neither tease you, nor trouble my^M long 
er, who am most sincerely. 

Your faithful humble servant, 

E. Germain. 


Dablin, Jane i% 1731. 

I DOUBT, habit has little power to reconcile us 
with sickness attended by pain. With me, the low- 
ness of spirits has a most unhappy effect ; I am grown 
less patient with solitude, and harder to be pleased 
with company ; which I could formerly better di* 
gest, when I could be easier without it than at pre* 
sent. As to sending you any thing that I luwe 
written since I left you (either verse or prose) T can 
only say, that I have ordered by my will, that all 
my papers of any kind shall be delivered you to 
dispose of as you please. I have several things that 
I have had schemes to finish, or to attempt, but I 
very foolishly put off the trouble, as sinners do their 
repentance : for I grow every day more averse from 
writing, which is very natural, and when I take a 
pen say to myself a thousand times turn est iamii. 
As to those papers of four or five years past, that 
you are pleased to require soon ; they, consist of 
little accidental things writ in the country : family 
amusements, never intended farther than to divert 
ourselves and some neighbours : or some effects of 
anger on public grievances here, which would be 
insignificant out of this kingdom. Two or three of 
us fa^ a fancy, three years ago, to write a weekly 
paper, and call it an Intelligencer. But it conti- 


nued not long ; for the whole volume (it was re- 
printed in London, and I find you have seen it^) 
was the work only of two, myself, and Dr Sheridan* 
If we could have got some ingenious young man to 
have been the manager, who should have published 
iedl that might be sent to him, it might have conti- 
nued longer, for there were hints enough. But the 
printer here could not afford such a young man one 
farthing for his trouble, the sale being so small, and 
the price one halfpenny ; and so it dropped. In 
the volume you saw (to answer your questions) the 
1, 3, 5, 7, were mine. Of the 8th I writ only the 
verses, (very uncorrect, but against a fellow we all 
hated,) * the 9th mine, the 10th only the verses, and 
of those not the four last slovenly lines ; the 15tb is 
a pamphlet of. mine printed bdbre, with Dr Sheri- 
dan's pre&ce, merely for laziness, not to disappoint 
the town: and so was the 19th, which contains on- 
ly a parcel of facts relating purely to the miseries 
of Ireland, and wholly useless and unentertaining. 
As to other things of mine, since I left you ; there 
are, in prose, a View of the State of Ireland ; a Pro- 
ject for eating Children ; and a Defence of Lord 
Carteret: in verse, a Libel on Dr Delanyf and 
Lord Carteret ; a Letter to Dr Delany on the Li- 
bels writ against him ; the Barrack (a stolen copy*,) 
the Lady's Journal : the Lady's Dressing-room (a 
stolen copy ;) the Plea of the Damned (a stolen co- 

* Richard Tighe* 

f Of these papers, Nos. I. III. and XIX. are printed in Vol. 

IX. p. 290. Nos. V. and VII. contain the Essay on the Fates 
of Clergymen, Vol. VIII. p. 361. The yerses in No. VI IJ. are 
the dialogue .between Mad MulUnix and Tim, and those in No. 

X. are ^^ Tim and the fables." No. XV* contains an exposi* 
tion of the causes of the public distress in Ireland^ 


py :) all these have been printed in London. (I 
forgot to tell you that the Tale of Sir Ralph was 
sent from England.) Beside these there are five or 
six (perhaps more) papers of verses writ in the 
north, but perfect family ihings, * two or three of 
which may be tolerable, the rest but indifferent, and 
the humour only local, and some that would give 
offence to the times. Such as they are, I will bring 
them, tolerable or bad, if I recover this lameness, 
and live long enough to see you either here or there. 
I forget again to tell vou that the Scheme of paying 
Debts by a Tax on Vices, is not one syllable mine, 
but of a young clergyman whom I countenance ; 
he told me it was built upon a passage in Gulliver, 
where a projector hath something upon the same 
thought. This young man f is the most hopeful we 
have : a book of his poems was printed in London ; 
Dr Delany is one of his patrons : he is married and 
has children, and makes up about 1001. a-year, on 
which he lives decently. The utmost stretch of his 
ambition is, to gather up as much superfluous mo- 
ney as will give him a sight of you, and half an 
hour of your presence ; after which he will return 
home in full satisfaction, and, in proper time, die in 

My poetical fountain is drained, and I profess I 
grow gradually so dry that ^ rhime with me is al« 
most as hard to find as a guinea, and even prose 

^ A Tery cKcelleat, bccaose perfect, sort of primitife tenei, 
which DCTer rose abore daily topics, aod the duit of the timet. 
The greatest part of Swift's poetry is of this kind. I koow not 
of any work of the Dean*s that can be strictly called poeikaL 
Our bards of this species are nomeroos. — l>r Wartoit. 

+ His name was Plikington ; and he was hnsband of the lady 
who wrote memoirs of her own life.— Dr Waetom. 



speculations tire me almost as much. Yet I have 
a thing in prose, ♦ begun above twenty-eight years 
ago, and almost finished. It will make a four shil- 
ling volume, and is such a perfection of folly that 
you shall never hear of it till it is printed, and then 
you shall be left to guess. Nay, I have another of 
the same age,t which will require a long time to 
perfect, and is worse than the former, in which I 
will serve you the same way. I heard lately from Mr 

who promises to be less lazy in order to 

mend his fortune. But wojnen who live by their 
beauty, and men by their wit, are seldom provident 
enough to consider that both wit and beauty will 
go off with years, and there is no living upon the 
credit of what is past. 

I am in great concern to hear of my Lady Bo- 
lingbroke's ill health returned upon her, and I doubt 
my lord will find Dawley too solitary without her; 
In that neither he nor you are companions young 
enough for me, and I believe the best part of the 
reason why men are said to grow children when 
they are old, is because they cannot entertain them- 
selves with thinking ; which is the very case of little 
boys and girls, who love to be noisy among their 
playfellows. I am told Mrs Pope is without pain, 
and I have not heard of a more gentle decay, with- 
out uneasiness to herself or friends ; yet I cannot 
but pity you, who are ten times the greater sufferer, 
by having the person you most love so long before 
you, and dying daily ; and I pray God it may not 
affect your mind or your health. 

Jon. Swift. 

* Polite ConTersation. 
f Directions to Serfaots. 







Dablin, Jane 22, 1731. 


I HAVE had the honour to tell your majesty, on 
another occasion, that provinces labour under one 
mighty misfortune, which is, in a great measure, 
the cause of all the rest ; and that is, that they are 
for the most part far removed from the prince's eye : 
and, of consequence, from the influence both of his 
wisdom and goodness. This is the case of Ireland 
beyond expression ! 

There is not one mortal here, who is not well sa- 
tisfied of your majesty's good intentions to all your * 
people : and yet your subjects of this isle are so far 
from sharing the effects of your good dispositions, 
in any equiuble degree ; are so far from enjoying 
all, the good to which they are entitled from your 
majesty's most gracious inclinations : that they of- 
ten find great difficulty how to enjoy even the re- 
lief of complaint. 

To omit a thousand other instances, there is one 

* Thus endorsed by Dr Swift : << Counterfeit letter from me 
to tbe Queen, sent to me bj Mr Pope; dated June M, 1731 ; 
receiTed Julj 19, 1731 ; given by the Countess of Snffolk." 
The subject of this mysterious epistle has been already caoTassed 
in the biographical sketch. It Is indignantly disarowed by 
Swift, and there are many expressions in it which cannot be 
s^npposed to accord with his general sentiments. Yet the par- 
pose of so gross a fabrication, if it be one, seems utterly inezpli- 


person of Irish birth, eminent for genius and merit 
of many kinds, an honour to her country, and to 
her sex : I will be bold to say, not less so in her 
sphere than your majesty in yours. And yet all 
talentsi and virtues have not yet been able to influ« 
ence any one person about your majesty, so far as 
to introduce her into your least notice. As I am 
your majesty's most dutiful and loyal subject, it is 
a debt I owe your majesty to acquaint you, that 
Mrs Barber, the best female poet of this or perhaps 
of any age, is now in your majesty's capital ; known 
to. liidy Hertford, Lady Torrington, Lady Wal- 
pole, &c. ; a woman whose genius is honoured by 
every man of genius in this kingdom, and either 
honoured or envied by every man of genius in Eng- 

Your majesty is justly reverenced for those great 
abilities with which God has blessed you ; for your 
regard to learning, and your zeal for true religion. 
Complete your character, by your regard to persons 
of genius ; especially those, who make the greatness 
of their taJents, after your majesty's example, sub- 
servient to the good of mankind and the glory of 
God ; which is most remarkably Mrs Barber's case 
and character. 

Give jne leave to tell you, madam, that every sub- 
ject of understanding and vii*tue, throughout your 
dominions, is appointed by Providence of your coun- 
cil. And this, madam, is an open and an honest 
apology for this trouble; or, to speak more proper- 
ly, for this dutiful information. It is your true in- 
terest, that all your subjects should see that merit 
is regarded by you in one instance ; or rather, that 
it is not disregarded in any instance. Let them 
daily bless God for every gift of wisdom and good- 


ness bestowed upon you» and pray incessantly for 
the long, continuance of them ; as doth 
Your Majesty's most dutiful 

and loyal subject and servant, 

JoN. Swift- 

to MR GAY. 

Dublin, Jme 99, 1731. 

CvER since I received your letter, I have l>ecn 
tipon a balance about going to England, and land- 
ing at Bristol, to pass a month at Amesbury, as the 
duchess has given me leave. But many difficulties 
have interfered: first, I thought I had done with 
the lawsuit, and so did all my lawyers, but my ad- 
versary, after being in appearance a protestant these 
twenty years, has declared he was dwayB a papist, 
and consequently by the law here, cannot buy nor 
(I think) sell ; so that I am at sea again, for sdmost 
all I am worth. But I have still a worse evil ; for 
the giddiness I was subject to, instead of coming 
seldom and violent, now constantly attends me more 
or less, though in a more peaceable manner, yet 
such as will not qualify me to live among the young 
and healthy : and the duchess, in all her youtn, spi- 
rit, and grandeur, will make a very ill nurse ; and 
her women not much better. Valetudinarians must 
live where they can command, and scold ; I must 
have horses to ride ; I must go to bed and rise when 
I please, and live where all mortals are subservient 
to me. I must talk nonsense when I please, and 
all who are present must commend it. I must ride 
thrice a-week, and walk three or four miles beside, 
every day. 


I always told you Mr was good for nothing 

but to be a rank courtier. I care not whether he 
ever writes to me or no. He and you may tell this 
to the duchess, and I hate to see you so charitable, 
and such a cully ; and yet I love you for it, because 
1 am one myself. 

You are the silliest lover in Christendom: If you 

like Mrs* , why do you not command her to 

take you ? if she does not, she is not worth pur- 
suing ; you do her too much honour ; she has nei- 
ther sense nor taste, if she dares to refuse you though 
she had ten thousand pounds. I do not remember 
to have told you of thanks that ^ou have not given, 
nor do I understand your meanmg, and I am sure I 
had never the least thoughts of any myself If I am 
your friend, it is for my own reputation, and from 
a principle of self-love ; and I sometimes reproach 
you for not honouring me in letting the world know 
we are friends. 

1 see very well how matters go with the duchess 
in regard to me. I heard her say, *^ Mr Gay, fill 
your letter to the dean, that there may be no room 
for me ; the frolic is gone far enough, I have writ 
thrice, I will do no more; if the man has a mind to 
come, let him come ; what a clutter is here? posi- 
tively I will not write a syllable more." She is an 
ungrateful duchess considering how many adorers 
I have procured her here, over and above the thou- 
sands she had before. I cannot allow you rich 
enough till you are worth seven thousand pounds, 
which will bring you three hundred per annum, and 
this will maintain you, with the perquisite of spung- 

* Drelincourt, for such it seems was the name of the lady for 
whom, or f qr )ier fortune^ Ga^ had some inclinatio^• 


ing while you are young, and when you are old 
will afford you a pint of port at night, two servants, 
and an old maid, a little garden, and pen and ink — 
provided you live in the country. Have you no 
scheme either in verse or prose ? The duchess should 
keep you at hard meat, and by that means force you 
to write ; and so I have done with you. 

Since I began to grow old, I have found all ladies 
become inconstant, without any reproach from their 
conscience. If I wait on you, I declare that one of 
your women (whichever it is that has designs upon 
a chaplain) must be my nurse, if I happen to be 
sick or peevish at your house ; and in that case you 
must suspend your domineering claim till I recover. 
Your omitting th^ usual appendix to Mr Gay's let- 
ters has done me infinite mischief here ; for while 
you continued them, you would wonder how civil 
the ladies here were to me, and how much they 
have altered since. I dare not confess that I have 
descended so low as to write to your grace, after 
the abominable neglect you have been guilty of; 
for if they but suspected it, I should lose them all. 
One of them, who had but an inkling of the matter 
(your grace will hardly believe it) refused to beg 
my pardon upon her knees, for once neglecting to 
make my rice-milk. Pray, consider this, and do 
your duty, or dread the consequence. I promise 
you shall have your will six minutes every hour at 
Amesbury, and seven in London, while I am in 
health : but if I happen to be sick, I must govern 
to a second. Yet properly speaking, there is no 
man alive with so much truth and respect. 
Your Graces most obedient and devoted se.rvant, 

^ON. SwiFT« 






July 18, 17S1. 

You are my dear friend, I am sure, for you are 
hard to be found : that you are so, is certainly ow- 
ing to some evil genius. For, if you say true, this 
is the very properest place you can repair to. There 
is not a head upon any of our shoulders, that is not, 
at some times, worse than yours can possibly be at 
the worst ; and not one to compare with yours when 
at best, except your friends are your sworn liars. 
So in one respect at least, you will find things just 
^s they cOuld be wished. It is farther necessary to 
assure you, that the duchess is neither healthy nor 
young ; she lives in all the spirits she can ; and with 
as little grandeur as she can possibly. She too, as 
well as yon, can scold, and command ; but she can 
be silent, and obey, if she pleases; and then for a, 
good nurse, it is out of dispute, that she must prove 
an excellent one, who has been so experienced in 
the infirmities of others, and of her own. As for 
talking nonsense, provided you do it on purpose, 
she has no objection ; there is some sense in non- 
sense, when it does not come by chance. In short, 
I am very sure, that she has set her heart upon see- 
ing you at this place. Here are women enough to 
attend you, if you should happen not to approve of 
her. She has not one fine lady belonging to her, 
or her house. She is impatient to be governed, and 
is qheerfuUy determined, that you shall quietly en- 
joy your own will and pleasure as long as ever you 
please. t 



You shall ride, you shall walk, and she will be 
glad to follow your example : aud this will be doing 
good at the same time to her and yourself. I had 
not heard from you so long, that I was in fears about 
you, and in the utmost impatience for a letter. I 
had flattered myself your lawsuit was at an end, 
and that your own money was in your own pocket ; 
and about a month ago, I was every day expecting 
a summons to Bristol. Your money is either getting 
or losing something; for I have placed it in the 
funds. For I am grown so much a man of business* 
that is to say, so covetous, that I cannot bear to let 
a sum of money lie idle. Your friend Mrs How- 
ard is now Countess of Suffolk. I am still so much 
a dupe, that I think you mistake her. Come to 
Amesbury, and you and I will dispute this matter ; 
and the duchess shall be judge. But I fancy you 
will object against her ; for I will be so fair to you* 
as to own, that I think she is of my side ; but, in 
short, you shall choose any impartial referee you 
please. I have heard from her ; Mr Pope has seen 
her; I beg you would suspend your judgment till 
we talk over this affair together ; for, I fancy, by 
your letter, you have neither heard from her, or 
seen her ; so that you cannot 'at present be as good 
a judge as we are. I will be a dupe for you at any 
time : therefore I beg it of you, that you would let 
jne be a dupe in quiet. 

As you have had several attacks of the giddiness 
you at present complain of, and that it has formerly 
left you, I will hope, that at this instant you are 
pertecthr well ; though my fears were so very great, 
before I received your letter, that I may probably 
flatter myself^ and think you better than you are« 


As to my being a manager for the duke, you have 
been misinformed. * Upon the discharge of an un- 
just steward, he took the administration into his 
own hands. I own, I was called in to his as* 
sistance, when the state of affairs was in the 
greatest confusion. Like an ancient Roman, I 
came, put my helping hand to set affairs right, 
and as soon as it was done, I am retired again as a 
private man. 


What you imagined you heard her say, was a 
good deal in her style : it was a thousand to one she 
had said so ; but I must do her the justice to say, 
that she did not, either in thought or word. I am 
sure she wants to be better acquainted with you; 
for which she has found out ten thousand reasons, 
that we will tell you, if you will come. 


By your letter, I cannot guess whether we are 
likely to see you or not. Why might not the 
Amesbury downs make you better ? 

the duchess. 
Dear Sir, 
Mr Gay tells me, I must write upon his line for 
fear of taking up too much room. It was his fault 
that I omitted my duty in his last letter, for he 
never told me one word of writing to you, till he 
had sent away his letter. However, as a mark of 

* Upon this ioaccarate supposition the Dean wrote a poem, 
IB which, under pretence of giving advice to Gay in his steward- 
ship, he seriously satirizes Sir Robert Walpole's administration* 
VoL XIV. p. 269. 


my great humility, I shall be ready and glad to ask 
your pardon upon my knees, as soon as ever you 
come, though not in fault. I own this is a little 
mean-spirited ; which I hope will not make a bad 
impression, considering you are the occasion. I 
submit to all your conditions ; so pray, come ; for, 
I have not only promised myself, but Mr Gay also, 
the satisfaction to hear you talk as much nonsense 
as you can possibly utter. 


You will read in the Gazette of a friend of yours, 
who has lately had the dignity of being disgraced;* 
for he, and every body except five or six, look 
upon it in the same light. I know, were you here, 
you would congratulate him upon it I paid the 
twelve pounds to Mrs Lancelot, for the uses you 
directed. I have no scheme at present, either to 
raise my fame or fortune. I daily reproach myself 
for my idleness. You know one cannot write when 
one will. I think and reject: one day or other» 
perhaps, I may think on something that may engage 
me to write. You and I are alike in one particular, 
I wish to be so in many ; I mean, that we hate 
to write upon other folks hints. I love to have 
my own scheme, and to treat it in my own way. 
This, perhaps, may be taking too much upon my^ 
self, and I may make a. bad choice; but I can al- 
ways enter into a scheme of my own with more 
ease and pleasure, than into that of any other body. 
I long to see you ; I long to hear from you ; I wish 

* WilUam Pulteney, Esq. who, July 1, 17S1| was, bjr order 
of KiDg George 11., ^stnick out of the list of the priTj«oottiicil| 
and put out of all the commissions of th^ peaoa.^B. 


J ou. health; I wish you happiness; and I should 
B veiy happy myself to be witness that you enjoyed 
my wishes. 


July 20, 1731. 

Dear Sir, 
I WRIT you a long letter not many days ago, 
which, therefore, did not arrive until after your last 
that I received yesterday, with the enclosed from 
me to the queen. You hinted something of this 
in a former letter: I will tell you sincerely how the 
affair stands. I never was at Mrs Barber's house 
in my life, except once that I chanced to pass by 
her shop, was desired to walk in, and went no far- 
ther, nor staid three minutes. Dr Delany has been 
long her protector; and he, being many years my 
acquaintance, desired my good offices for her, and 
brought her several times to the deanery. I knew 
she was poetically given, and, for a woman, had a 
sort of genius that way. She appeared very modest 
and pious, and I believe was sincere ; and wholly 
turned to poetry. I did conceive her journey to 
England was on the score of her trade, being a 
woollen-draper, until Dr Delany said, she had a 
design of printing her poems by subscription, and 
desired I would befriend her: which I did, chiefly 
by your means ; the doctor still urging me on : upon 
whose request I writ to her two or three times, be- 
cause she thought that my countenancing her might 
be of use. Lord Carteret very much befriended 
her; and she seems to have made her way not ill. 
As for those three letters you mention, supposed 


all to be written by me to the queen, on Mis 
Barber's account, especially the letter which bears 
my name ; I can only say, that the apprehensions 
one may be apt to have of a friend's doing a foolish 
thing, is an effect of kindness : and God knows who 
is free from playing the fool some time or other. 
But in such a degree as to write to the qaeen, who 
has used me ill without any cause, and to write in 
such a manner as the letter you sent me, and in 
such a style, and to have so much zeal for one 
almost a stranger, and to make such a description of 
a woman as to prefer her before all mankind ; and 
to instance it as one of the greatest grievances of 
Ireland, that her majesty has, not encouraged Mrs 
Barber, a woollen-draper's wife, declined in the 
world because she has a knack at versifying ; was to 
suppose, or fear, a folly so transcendent, that no man 
could be guilty of, who was not fit for Bedlam. 
You know the letter you sent enclosed is not my 
hand ; and why I should disguise, and yet sign my 
name, should seem unaccountable : especially when 
I am taught, and have reason to believe, that I am 
under the queen's displeasure on many accounts, and 
one very late, for having fixed up a stone over the 
burying-place of the Duke of Schomberg, in my 
cathedral: which, however, I was assured by a 
worthy person, who solicited that affair last summer 
with some relations of the duke, '' That her msyesty, 
on hearing the matter, said they ought to erect a 
monument." ^ Yet I am told assuredly, that the king 
not long ago, on the representation and complaint 
of the Prussian envoy (with a hard name) who has 

* See a preceding letter to Lord Carteret, lOth Maj 17S8» 


married a grand-daughter of the duke, said pub- 
lickly in the drawing-room, " That I had put up 
that stone out of malice, to raise a quarrel between 
his majesty and the King of Prussia/' This per- 
haps may be false, because it is absurd : for I thought 
it was a whiggish action to honour Duke Schomberg, 
who was so instrumental in the revolution, and was 
stadtholder of Prussia, and otherwise in the service 
of that electorate, which is now a kingdom. You 
will observe the letter sent me concluded, " Your 
msgesty's loyal subject;" which is absolutely ab- 
surd; Tor we are onjy subjects to the king, and so is 
her majesty herself. I have had the happiness to be 
known to you above twenty years; and I appeal, 
whether you have known me to exceed the common 
indiscretions of mankind; or that, when I conceived 
myself to have been so very ill used by her majesty, 
whom I never, attended but on her own commands, 
I should turn solicitor to her for Mrs Barber ? If 
the queen had not an inclination to think ill of me, 
she knows me too well to believe in her own heart 
that I should be such a coxcomb. I am pushed on 
by that unjust suspicion to give up so much of my 
discretion, as to write next post to my Lady Suffolk 
on this occasion, and to desire she will show what I 
write to the queei^ ; although I have as much reason 
to complain of her, as of her majesty, upon the score 
of her pride and negligence, which make her fitter 
to be an Irish lady than an English one. You told 
me, *^ she complained that I did not write to her ;" 
when I did, upon your advice, and a letter that 
required an answer, she wanted the civility to acquit 
herself. I shall not be less in the favour of God, or 
the esteem of my friends, for either of their majes- 
ties hard thoughts, which they only take up from 
misrepresentations* The first time i saw the queen. 



I fook occasion, upon the subject of Mr Gay, to 
complain of that very treatment which innocent 
persons often receive from princes and great mini- 
sters, that they too easily receive bad impressions ; 
and although they are demonstrably convinced that 
those impressions had no grounds, yet they will 
never shake them off. This I said upon Sir Kobert 
Walpole*s treatment of Mr Gray about a libel ; and 
the queen fell entirely in with me, yet now falls into 
the same error. As the letter f ♦♦♦***»* 
******** of accidents, and out of perfect 
commiseration, &c. 

Jon. Swift. 


July «4, 1731. 
I GIVE you joy of your new title, and of the con- 
sequences it may have, or hath had, on your rising 
at court, whereof I know nothing but by common 
fame ; for, you remember how I prophesied of your 
behaviour, when you should come to be a great 
lady, at the time I drew your character ; and hope 
you have kept it. I writ to you some .time ago, by 
the advice of Mr Pope: I writ to you civilly: bat 
you did not answer my letter, although you were not 
then a countess ; and if you were, your neglect was 

f Here the paper is accideatally toro. There teem to be 
wanting eight small quarto lines, which conclude with those few 
words on 2ie back of the page which follow the a8teriski.^H. 


SO much the worse : for your title has not increased 
your value with me; and your coiiduct must be 
very good, if it will not lessen you. Neither should 
.you have heard from me now, if it were not on a 
particular occasion. I find, from several instances, 
that I am under the queen's displeasure ; and as it is 
usual among princes, without any manner of reason. 
I am told, there were three letters sent to her ma- 
jesty in relation to one Mrs Barber, who is now in 
London, and soliciting for a subscription to her 
poems. It seems, the queen thinks that these 
letters were written by me : and I scorn to defend 
myself even to her majesty, grounding my scorn 
upon the opinion I had of her justice, her taste, and 
good sense ; especially when the last of those letters, 
whereof I have just received the original from Mr 
Pope, was signed with my name: and why I 
should disguise my hand, which you know very 
well, and yet write m^ name, is both ridiculous 
and unaccountable. Last post, I wrote my whole 
sentiments on the matter to Mr Pope; who tells 
me, '^ that you and he vindicated me on all the 
three letters ;" which, indeed, was but bare justice 
in you both, for he is my old friend, and you are 
in my debt on account of the esteem I had for 
you. I desire you would ask the queen, " Whether, 
since the time I had the honour to be known to her, 
I ever did one single action, or said one single 
word, to disoblige her ?" 1 never asked her for 
any thing : and you well know, that when I had 
an intention to go to France, about the time that 
the late^king died, I desired your opinion (not 
as you were a courtier) whether I should go or not: 
and that you absolutely forbid me, as a thing that 
would look disaffected, and for other reasons, where- 
in I confess I was your dupe as well as somebody's 


else : and, for want of that journey, I fell sick, ami 
was forced to return hither to my unenvied home. 
I hear the queen has blamed me for putting a stone, 
with a Latin inscription, over the Duke of Schom- 
berg's burying-place in my cathedral; and that 
the king ssud publickly, ^* I had done it in malice, 
to create a quarrel between him and the King oif 
Prussia/' But the public prints, as well as the 
thing itself, will vindicate me: and the hand the 
duke had in the revolution made him deserve the 
best monument. Neither could the King of Prussia 
justly take it ill, who must needs have heard that 
the duke was in the service of Prussia, and stadt- 
holder of it, as I have seen in his titles. The first 
time I saw the queen, I talked to her largely upon 
the conduct of princes and great ministers ; it was on 
a particular occasion : ^^ That when they receive an 
ill account of any person, although they afterward 
have the greatest demonstration of the falsehood, 
yet, will they never be reconciled:" And al- 
though the queen fell in with me upon Uie hardship 
of such a proceeding, yet now she treats me exactly 
in the same manner. I have faults enough, but 
never was guilty of any either to her majesty or to 
ou ; and as little to the king, whom I never saw, 
ut when I had the honour to kiss his hand. I am 
sensible that I owe a great deal of this usage to Sir 
Robert Walpole ; whom yet I never offended, al- 
though he was pleased to quarrel with me very un- 
justly : for which I showed not the least resentment 
(whatever I might have in my heart) nor was ever 
a partaker with those who have been battling with 
him for some years past. I am contented that the 
queen should see this letter ; and would please to 
consider how severe a censure it is to believe I 
should write three to her, only to find foult with her 





ministry, and recommend Mrs Barber: whom I 
never knevir until she was recommended to me by a 
worthy friend, to help her to subscribers, which, by 
her writings, I thought she deserved. Her majesty 
gave me leave, and even commanded me, above five 
years ago, if I lived until she was queen, to write to 
her on behalf of Ireland: for the miseries of this 
kingdom she appeared then to be much concerned. 
I desired the friend who introduced me to be a wit- 
ness of her majesty*s promise. Yet that liberty I 
never took, although I had too many occasions ; 
apd is it not wonderful, that I should be sus- 
pected of writing to her in such a style, in such 
a counterfeit hand, and my name subscribed, upon 
a perfect trifle, at the same time that I well knew 
myself to be very much out of her majesty's good 
graces? I am, perhaps, not so very much awed 
with majesty as others ; having known courts more 
or less from my early youth. And I have more 
than once told the queen, ^' That I did not regard 
her station half so much, as the good understanding 
I heard and found to be in her:'* neither did I 
ever once see the late king, although her majesty 
was pleased to chide me on that account, for my 
singularity. In this I am a good whig, by thinking 
it sufficient to be a dutiful subject, without any 
personal regard for princes, farther than as their 
virtues deserve ; and upon that score, had a most 
particular respect for the queen, your mistress. 
One who a8k9 nothing may talk with freedom; and^ 
that is my ca«e. I have not said half that was in 
my heart, but I will have done : and remembering 
that you are a countess, will borrow so much Cere- 
mony as to remain, with great respect. Madam, 

Your Ladyship's most obedient and most humble 
servant, Jon. Swift. 




August t, 173L 

I AM indebted to you, my reverend Dean, for a 
letter of a very old date : the expectation of seeing 
you from week to week, which our friend Gay made 
me entertain, hindered me from writing to you a 
good while ; and I have since deferred it by waiting 
an opportunity of sending my letter by a safe hana. 
That opportunity presents itself at last, and Mr 
Echlin will put this letter into your hands. You 
will hear from him, and from others^ of the general 
state of things in this country, into which I returned, 
and where I am confined for my sins. If I enter- 
tained the notion, which by the way I believe to be 
much older than popery, or even than Christianity, 
of making up an account with Heaven, and demand- 
ing the balance in bliss, or paying it by good works 
and sufferings of my own, and by the merits and 
sufferings of others, I should imagine that I had ex- 
piated all the faults of my life, one way or other, 
since my return into England. One of the circum- 
stances of my situation, which has afflicted me most 
and which afflicts me still so, is the absolute inutility 
I am of to those whom 1 should be the best pleased 
to serve. Success in serving my friends would 
make me amends for the want of it in disserving 
my enemies. It is intolerable to want it in both, 
and yet both go together generally. 

I have had two or three projects on foot for mak- 
ing such an establishment here as might tempi yoa 
to quit Ireland. One of them would have succeed- 
ed, and would have been agreeable in every respect, 
if engagements to my lady's kinsman (who did not, 


' I suppose, deserve to be your clerk) had not pro- 
vented it. Another of them cannot take place, with- 
out the consent of those, who would rather have 
!ron a dean in Ireland, than a parish priest in Eng- 
and ; and who are glad to keep you, where your 
sincere friend, * my late Lord Oxford, sent you. A 
third was wholly in my power ; but when I inquired 
exactly into the value, I found it less than I had 
believed ; the distance from these parts was great ; 
and beside all this, an unexpected and groundless 
dispute about the right of presentation (but still 
such a dispute as the law must determine) hstd arisen. 
You will please to believe, that I mention these 
things for no other reason than to show you, how 
much those friends deserve you should make them a 
visit at least, who are so desirous to settle you 
among them. I hope their endeavours will not be 
always unsuccessful. 

I received, some time ago, a letter from Dr De- 
lany ; and very lately Mr Pope sent me some sheets, 
which seem to contain the substance of two sermons 
of that gentleman's. The philosophia prima is 
above my reach, and especially when it attempts to 
prove, that God has done, or does so and so, by at- 
tempting to prove, th^t doing so and so is essential 
to his attributes, or necessary to his design ; and 
that the not doing so and so^ would be inconsistent 
with the former, or repugnant to the latter. I 
content myself to contemplate what I am sure he 
has done, and ta adore him for it in humble silence* 
J can demonstrate, that every cavil, which has been 
brought against the great system of the world, phy- 

• IronicaL Boliogbroke*8 hatred to Oxford bicaks forth on 
all occaiionfc 


f • I 


.i • 



sical and moral, from the days of Democrttus and 
Epicurus to this day, is absurd ; but I dare not pro* 
nounce why things are made as they are, state the 
ends of infinite wisdom^ and show thie proportion of 
the means.* 

Dr Delany, in his letter ta me, mentioned some 
errors in the critical parts of learning, which h!e 
hoped he had corrected, by showing ^ miirtakes, 
particularly of Sir John Marsham^f on whose autho- 
rity those errors were built. Whether I can be of 
use to him even in this part, I know not ; for, har- 
ing fixed my opinion long ago concerning all ancient 
history and chronology, by a careful examinatiOB 
into the first principles of them, I hare ever since 
laid that study totally aside. I confess, in the letter 
I writ lately to the doctor, notwithstanding my 
g^at respect for Sir John Marsham, that his au- 
thority is often precarious, because he leans often 
on other authorities, which are so. But to you I 
will confess a little more : I think, nay, I know, 
that there is no possibility of making any system of 
that kind, without doing the same thing ; and that 
the defect is in the suJ^ect, not in the writer. I 

* Tet this appears to have beea tlie attempt of Bir Popt, hi 
liii ^^ Essay oo Man,*' iR which he professes to have ^iogttd 
Lord fiolingbroke^s principles, 

'^ Tboa wert my guide, phtfotopher, and fiieod f 

and which Lord Boiingbroke, in a sabs^oeot pa^t of this kiter^ 
says, was nndertaken at his instigation ; approTing, at the suae 
time, of the first three books, which he had seen and consi* 
dared.— H. 

+ A learned English historian, chronologist, and linguist lie 
was a zealons loyalist during the time of ^ cItU war, and died 
m 1685. His works had chiefly reference to scriptural chrono- 
logy, to whichit would seem the passage in fhe texj^fdbv^^ 
eUef treatise is entitled Chronicus Canon. 


have read the writings of some who differ from him; 
and of others who undertook particularly to refute 
him. It seems plain to me, that this was the case. 
All the materials of this sort of learning are dis- 
jointed and'broken. Time has contributed to ren- 
der them so, and the unjhithfulness of those who 
have transmitted them down to us, particularly of 
that yile fellow Eusebius, ^ has done even more than 
time itself. By throwing these fragments into a 
different order, by arbitrary interpretations (and it 
is often impossible to make any others) in short, by 
a few plausible guesses for the connexion and appli- 
cation of them, a man mity, with tolerable inge- 
nuity, prove almost any thing by them. I tried 
formerly to prove, in a learned dissertation, by the 
same set of authorities, that there had been four 
Assyrian monarchies; that there had been but 
three ; that there had been but two ; that there had 
been but one ; and that there never had been any. 
I puzzled myself, and a much abler man than my- 
self, the friend to whom I lent the manuscript, and 
who has, I believe, kept it. In short, I am afraid, 
that I shall not be very useful to Dr Delany, in 
making remarks on the work he is about. His com- 
munication of this work may be useful, and I am 
sure it will be agreeable to me. If you and he are 
still in Ireland, pray give my best services to him; 
but say no more than may be proper of all I have 
writ to you. 

I know very well the project you mean, and about 

* The learned Bishop of Caesarea, id the fourth centurj, io hb 
^< Chronicon,*' pablished bjr Joseph Scaliger, with notes, at 
Leyden, in 1600, folio, and reprinted at Amsterdam, with great 
additions to the notes, in 1658.— *B. 


"which you say, that Pope and yoa have often 
teased me. I could convince you, as he is con- 
vinced, that a publication of any thing of that kind 
would have been wrong on many accounts, and 
.would be so even now. Besides, call it pride if 
you will, I shall never make, either to the present 
age, or to posterity, any apology for the part I 
acted in the late queen's reign. * But I will apply 
myself very seriously to the composition of just and 
true relations of the events of those times, in which 
both I, and my friends, and my enemies, must 
take the merit, or the blame, which an authentic 
and impartial deduction of facts will assign to us. 
I will endeavour to write so as no man could write 
who had not been a party in those transactions, and 
as few men would write who had been concerned in 
them. I believe I shall go back, in considering the 
political interests of the principal powers in Europe, 
as far as the Pyrenean treaty; but I shall not begin 
a thread of history till the death of Charles the Second 
of Spain, and the accession of Queen Anne to the 
throne of England. Nay, even from that time down- 
ward, I shall render my relations more full or piu 
magra, the word is father Paul's, just as I have, or 
have not, a stock of authentic materials. These 
shall regulate my work, and I will neither indulge 
my own vanity, nor other men's curiosity, in going 
one step farther than they carry me. Vou see, my 
dear Swift, that I open a large tield to myself: with 

, * Tbis probably alludes to a tract called, ^^ Letters oo the 
Spirit of Patriotism,*' of which Lord Boiingbroke permitled a 
few copies to Le taken for his particular friends, and which af- 
terward found its way into the world by Mr Pope's means* See 
Gent. Mag. VoL XljL p. 195.— H. 


what success I shall expatiate in it, I know as ^ittle, 
as I know whether I shall live to go through so 
great a work ; but I will begin immediately, and 
will make it one principal business of the rest of my 
life. This advantage, at least, I shall reap from it, 
and a great advantage it will be, my attention will 
be diverted from the present scene, I shall grieve 
less at those things which I cannot mend : I shall 
dignify my retreat; and shall wind up the labours 
of my life in serving the cause of truth. 

You say that you could easily show, by com- 
paring my letters for twenty years past, how the 
whole system of my philosophy changes by the se- 
veral gradations of life. I doubt it. As far as I am 
able to recollect, my way of thinking has been uni- 
form enough for more than twenty years. True it is, 
to my shame, that my way of acting has not been al- 
ways conformable to my way of thinking. My own 
passions, and the passions and interests of other men 
still more, have led me aside. I launched into the 
deep before I had loaded balast enough. If the ship 
did not sink, the cargo was thrown overboard. The 
storm itself threw me into port. My own opinion, 
my own desires would have kept me there: the opi- 
nion, the desires of others, sent me to sea again. I 
did, and blamed myself for doing what others, and 
you among the rest, would have blamed me, if I 
had not done. I have paid more than t owed to 
party, and as much at least as was due to friendship. 
If I go off the stage of public life without paying 
all I owe to my enemies, and to the enemies of my 
country, I do assure you the bankruptcy is not frau- 
dulent. I conceal none of my effects. 

Does Pope talk to you of the noble work, which, 
at my instigation, he has begun in such a maimer, 
that he must be convinced, by this time, I judged 


better of his talents than he did ? The first epistle, 
which considers man, and the habitation of man, 
relatively to the whole system of universal bein^: 
The second, which considers him in his own habi* 
tation, in himself, and relatively to his particular 
system : And the third, which shows how — 

*< A uniTcrsal cause 

Works to one end, bat works by Tarious laws;*' 

How man« and beast^ and vegetable are linked in a 
. mutual dependency, parts necessary to each other, 
and necessary to the whole; how human societies 
were formed; from what spring true religion and 
true policy are derived; how God has made our 
greatest interest and our plainest duty indivisibly the 
same : — these three epistles, I say, are finished. The 
fourth he is now intent upon. It is a noble subject; 
he pleads the cause of God, I use Seneca's expression, 
against that famous charge which atheists in all ages 
have brought, the supposed unequal dispensations of 
Providence ; a charge which I cannot heartily for- 
give your divines for admitting. * You admit it in- 

* To proTe that the dispensations of ProTidenoe in the present 
state are not unequal, is certainly Tery desirable; bat tliere is 
reason to fear, that those who blame divines for admitting an ine* 
quality, hate not succeeded in theattempt. The philosophers, 
both ancient and modern, who hare endeaTonred to justify the 
ways of God to man, by proving that happiness does not con- 
sist in externals, in order to shew that his dispensationa are equal, 
have yet placed happiness in virtue chiefly, as a principle of active 


*' Happier aS kinder in each doc defree, 
. And height of blias, bat height of charity.*' 

Now there seems to be an inconsistency between these two prin- 
ciples, of which they are not aware. 
It may reasonably be asked^ what virtue^ as a principle of active 


deed for an extreme good purpose, and you build on 
this admission the necessity of a future state of re- 
wards and punishments. But what if you should 
find, that this future state will not account, in op- 
position to the atheist, for God's justice in the pre- 
sent state, which you give up? Would it not have 
been better to defend God's* justice in this world, 
against these daring men, by irrefragable reasons, 
and to Iwive rested the proof of the other point on 
revelation? I do not like concessions made against 
demonstration, repair or supply them how you wilL 
The epistles I have mentioned will compose a first 
book ; the plan of the second is settled. You will 
not understand by what I have said, that Pope will 
go so deep into the argument, or carry it so far as I 
have hinted. * You inquire so kindly after my wife, 
that I must tell you something of her. She has fal- 
len upon a remedy, invented by a surgeon abroad, 
and which has had great success in cases similar to 
hers. This remedy has visibly attacked the origi- 
nal cause of all her complaints, and has abated, in 
some degree, by one gentle and uniform effect, all 

benevolence, has to bestow ? Can it bestow upon others may 
thing more than externals ? If not, it cither has not the power 
of communicating happiness^ or happiness is to be communicated 
in externals. If it has not the power of communicating happiness, 
it b indeed a mere name ; the subject receives nothing ; the agent 
giTes nothing. The bliss of charitj is founded on a delusion ; on 
the false supposition of a benefit communicated bj externals, 
which externals cannot communicate, if happiness can be com. 
municated by externals, and consequently is defiendcntupon them,, 
and these externals are unequally distributed, how is the dispen- 
sation of Profidence, with respect to happiness in the present 
state, equal i — H. 

* That is, will not reconcile the perfect unequal disaffection te 
the divine justice.-i»>H. 


the grievous and various symptoms. I hope, and 
surely with reason, that she will receive still greater 
benent from this method of cure, which she will 
resume as soon as the great heat is over. If she re- 
covers, I shall not, for her sake, abstract myself 
from the world more than I do at present in this 
place. But if she should be taken from me, I 
should most certainly yield to that strong desire, 
which I have long had, of secluding myself totally 
from the company and affairs of mankind; of leaving 
the management, even of my private affairs, to 
others ; and of securing, by these means, for the 
rest of my life, an uninterrupted tenor of philoso- 
phical quiet. 

I suppose you have seen some of those volumes of 
scurrility, which have been thrown into the world 
against Mr Pulteney and myself, and the Craftsman, 
which gave occasion to them. I think, and it is 
the sense of all my friends, that the person who 
published the Final Answer,* took a right turn, in 
a very nice and very provoking circumstance. To 
answer all the falsities, misrepresentations, and 
blunders, which a club of such scoundrels, as Ar- 
nail, Concanen, and other pensioners of the mi- 
nister, crowd together, would have been equally 
tedious and ridiculous, and must have forced several 
things to be said, neither prudent, nor decent, nor 
perhaps strictly honourable to be said. To have 
explained some points, and to have stopped at others. 

* Thb pamphlet was written by Lord Bolingbroke, io his own 
Tiodication, 1731. It is entitled, '^ A Final Answer to the Re- 
marks on the Craftsman's Vindiction of his two honourable F^ 
trons ; and to all the Libels which have come, or roaj come, from 
the same Quarter, against the Person last mentioned in the 
Craftsman of 22d of May." 



would have given strength to that impertinent sug- 
gestion. Guilt alone is silent in the day of inquiry. 
It was therefore right to open no part of the scene 
of the late queen's reign, nor submit the passages of 
her administration, and the conduct of any of her 
ministers, to the examination of so vile a tribunal. 
This was still the more right, because, upon such 
points as relate to subsequent transactions, and as 
affect me singly, what the Craftsman had said, was 
justified unanswerably; and what the remarker had 
advanced, was proved to be infamously false. The 
effect of this paper has answered the design of it; 
and, which is not common, all sides agree, that the 
things said ought to have been said. The public 
writers seem to be getting back, from these personal 
altercations, to national affairs, much against the 
grain of the minister's faction. What the effect of 
all this writing will be, I know not; but this I 
]know, that when all the information which can be 
given is given; when all the spirit which can be 
raised, is raised, it is to no purpose to write any 
more. Even you men of this world have nothing 
else to do, but to let the ship drive till she is cast 
iaway, or till the storm is over. For my own part, 
I am neither an owner, an officer, nor a foremast- 
man. I am but a passenger, said my Lord Carbury. 
It is well for you you I am got to the end of my 
paper ; for you might else have a letter as long again 
from me. If you answer me by the post, remember, 
while you are writing, that you write by the post. 
Adieu, my reverend friend. 




Aiigost 88, 173U 

You and the duchess use me very ill» for I pro- 
fess, I cannot distinguish the style or the hand-writ- 
ing of either. I think her grace writes more like 
you than herself ; and that you write inore like her 
grace than yourself I would swear the beginning 
of your letter writ by the duchess, though it is to 
pass for yours ; because there is a cursed lie in it, 
that she is neither young nor healthy, and brides 
it perfectly resembles the part she owns. I will 
likewise swear, that what I must suppose is written 
by the duchess, is your hand ; and thus I am puzzled 
and perplexed between you, but I will go on in the 
innocency of my own heart. I am got eight miles 
from our famous metropolis* to a country parson's, 
to whom I lately gave a city living, such as an Eng- 
lish chaplain would leap at. I retired hither for the 
public good, having two great works in hand : * one 
to reduce the whole politeness, wit, humour, and 
style of England into a short system, for the use of 
all persons of quality, and particularly the maids of 
honour. The other is of almost equal importance ; 
I may call it the whole duty of servants, in about 
twenty several stations, from the steward and wait- 
ing-woman down to the scullion and pantry-boy. 
I believe no mortal had ever such fair invitations, as 

* Dialogues of PolUe ConTersation^ aod Directions to Ser* 


to be happy in the best company of England. I 
wish I had liberty to print your letter with my own 
comments upon it. There was a fellow' in Ireland^ 
who from a shoe-boy grew to be several times otie 
of the chief governors^ wholly illiterate, add with 
hardly common sense: a lorcUlieutenant told the 
first King George, that he was the greatest subject 
he had in both kingdoms ; and truly this character 
was gotten and preserved by his never appearing in 
England, which was the only wise thing he ever did, 
except pmxhasing sixteen thousand pounds a«year 
— ^why, you need not stare : it is easily applied : I 
must be absent, in order to preserve my credit with 
her grace — Lo here comes in the duchess again (I 
know her by her d- d's : but am a fool for discover- 
ing my art) to defend herself against my conjecture 
of what she said — ^Madam, I will imitate your grace, 
and write to you upon the same line. I own it is a 
base unromantic spirit in me, to suspend the honour 
of waiting at your grace's feet, tiH I can finish a 
paltry lawsuit. It concerns indeed almost aU my 
whole fortune ; it is equal to half Mr Pope's and 
two-thirds of Mr Gay's, and . about six weeks rent 
of your grace's. This cursed accident has drilled 
away the whole summer. But, madam, understand 
one thing, that I take all your ironical civilities in a 
literal sense, and whenever I have the honour to 
attend you, shall expect them to be literally per- 
formed : though perhaps I shall find it hard4o prove 
your hand- writing in a court of justice ; but that will 
not be much for your credit. How miserably has 
your grace been mistaken in thinking to avoid envy^ 
by running into exile, where it haunts you more 
than ever it did even at court ? Non te civitas^ non 
regia domm in exilium miserunt, sed tu utrasque. 

. * 

I » • 

,• • 

• • 

> • 




• * 


' j: 

■» •• 

« • 

*■ * 

> ' 



So says Cicero (as your grace knows) or so he 
might have said. 

I am told that the Craftsman, in one of his pa« offended with the publishers of (I suppose) 
the last edition of the Dunciad ; and I was adced 
whether you and Mr Pope were as good friends to 
;the new disgraced person as formerly ? This I knew 
nothing of, but suppose it was the consequence of 
some mistake. As to writing, I look on you just in 
the prime of life for it, the very season whea jo^- 
ment and invention draw together. Bat schemes 
are perfectly accidental ; * some will appear barren 
of hints and matter, but prove to be fruitful ; and 
others the contrary: and what you say, is past doubt, 
that every one can best find hints for himself: though 
it is possible that sometimes a friend may g^ve you 
a lucky one just suited to your own imagination. 
But all this is almost past with me : my invention 
and judgment are perpetually at fisty-cuffs, till they 
have quite disabled each other: and the meerest 
trifles I ever wrote, are serious philosophical lucu- 
brations, in comparison to what I now busy myself 
about ; as (to speak in the author's phrase) the world 
may one day see. 


Dnjifm^ Sept. 7, 1731. 

To show how strictly I obeju^your orders, I came 
.. .V; from the Duchess of Dorset's country-house to my 

• As were the snbjects of the << Lutfin," and << Rape of ths 
Lock/' and << The Dvpensarj."— Dr Waeton. 

» • 

•- • 

i > 

• V 


own, where I have rid and walked as often as the 
weather permitted me. Nor am I very nice in that ; 
for, if you remember, I was not bred up very ten- 
derly, nor a fine lady; for which I acknowledge 
myself exceedingly obliged to my parents : for had 
I had that sort of education, I should not have been 
so easy and happy, as I thank God, I now am. As 
to the gout, indeed, I believe I do derive it from my 
ancestors; but I may forgive even that, since it wait- 
ed upon me no sooner ; and especially since I see 
my elder and two younger brothers so terribJr. 
plagued with it ; so that I am now the only wine 
drinker in my family ; and upon my word, I am not 
increased in that since you first knew me. ' 

I am sorry you are involved in lawsuits ; it is the . 
thing I most fear. I wish you had met with as 
complaisant an adversaiy as I did ; for my Lord Pe- 
terborow plagued Sir John^ all his lifetime; but ; 
declared, if ever he gave the estate to me, he would . 
have done with it; and accordingly has kept his .^> 
word, like an honourable man« I saw Mrs Barber . 
the day before I came out of town, and should be . 
mighty glad to serve her ; but cannot say so much . 
by her husband, whom, for her sake, I recommend- 
ed to the Duke of Dorset to buy his liveries of. The 
first thing he did was to ask a greater price than any , . 
body else : and, when we were at Whitchurch, • 
where I attended their graces, he was informed he 
had not cloth enough in his shop, and he feared 
they would not be ready against he came over. 

I hope in God I shall soon hear of their safe land-< 
ing ; t ^nd I do not question the people of Ireland'^ ' 

* Sir John Germain of DraytoD, Lady Betty^s husliand. 

f The Dake and Duchess of Dorflct—H. ■": 

. f •■ 



• • • « • ' 

X « « 

m \ 


liking them a$ well as they deserve. I desire no 
better for them ; for, if you do not spoil him there, 
which I think he has too good sense to let happen^ 
he is the most worthy, honest, good-natured, great* 
souled man that ever was born. As to my duchess, 
she is so reserved, that perhaps she may not be at 
first so much admired ; but, upon knowledge, I will 
defy any body upon earth, with sense, judgment, 
and good nature, not only not to admire her, but 
must loye and esteem her aa much as I do, and 
every one else, that is really acquainted with her. 
You know him a little ; so, for his own sake, you 
must like him : and till you are better acquainted 
with them both, I hope you will like them for mine. 
Your friend Biddy f is just the same as she was; 
laughs sedately, and makes a joke slily* And I am, 
as I ever was, and hope I ever shall be, your most 
sincere friend, and faithful humble servant, 

£. Germain. 



September 10, 1731. 

If your ramble was on horseback, I am glad of it 
on account of your health ; but I know your arts of 
patching up a journey between stage-coaches and 
friends^ coaches : for you are as arrant a cockney as 
any hosier in Cheapside. One clean shirt with two 
cravats, and as many handkerchiefs, make up your 

• Biddy Floyd.— & 


equipage; and as for nightgown, it is clear from 
Homer, that Asfaineinnon rose without one. I have 
often had it in my head to put it into yours, that 
you ought to have some great work in scheme, which 
may take up seven years to finish, beside two or three 
under ones, that may add another thousand pound 
to your stock ; and then I shall be in less pain 
about you. I know you can find dinners, but you 
love twelvepenny coaches too well, without consi- 
dering that the interest of a whole thousand pounds 
brings you but half a crown a-day. I find a greater 
longing than ever to come among you ; and reason 
good, when I am teased with dukes and duchesses 
for a visit, all my demands complied with, and all 
excuses cut off. You remember, " O happy Don 
Quixote ! queens held his horse, and luchesses pul- 
led off his armour," or something to that purpose. 
He was a mean-spirited fellow ; I can say ten times 
more ; O happy, &c. such a duchess was designed 
to attend him, and such a duke invited him to com- 
mand his palace. Nam istos re^es ceteros memo^ 
rare noloj hominum mendtcabula : go read your 
Plautus, and observe Strobilus vapouring after he 
had found the pot of gold. I will have nothing to 
do with that lady: 1 have long hated her on your 
account, and the more, because you are so forgiving 
as not to hate her : however, she has good qualities 
enough to make her esteemed, but not one grain of 
feeling. I only wish she were a fool. I have been 
several months writing near five hundred lines on a 
pleasant subject, only to tell what my friends and 
enemies will say on me after I am dead. * I shall 
finish it soon, for 1 add two lines every week, and 

* His celebrated and excellent rerses on his own death, 
VOL. xvii. E e 


blot out four, land alter eight. I have brought in 
you and my other friends, as well as enemies and 
detractors. It is a great comfort to see how corrup* 
tion and ill conduct are instrumental in uniting vir- 
tuous persons and lovers of their country of all de- 
nominations : whig and tory, high and low church, 
as soon as they are left to think freely, all joining 
in opinion. If this be disaffection, pray Grod send 
me always among the disaffected i and I heartily 
wish you joy of your scurvy treatment at court, 
which has given you leisure to cultivate both public 
and private virtue ; neither of them likely to be soon 
met within the walls of St James's or Westminster. 
But I must here dismiss you, that I may pay my 
acknowledgments to the duke for the great honour 
he has done me. 

My Lord, 
I could have sworn that my pride would be al- 
ways able to preserve me from vanity ; of which I 
have been in great danger to be guilty for some 
months past, first by the conduct of my lady duchess, 
and now by that of your grace, which had like to 
finish the work : and I should have certainly gone 
about showing my letters under the charge of se- 
crecy to every blab of my acquaintance, if I could 
have the least hope of prevailing on any of them to 
believe that a man in so obscure a comer, quite 
thrown out of the present world, and within a few 
steps of the next, should receive such condescend- 
ing invitations, from two such persons, to whom he 
is an utter stranger, and who know no more of him 
than what they have heard by the partial represen- 
tations of a friend. But in the mean time, I must 
desire your grace not to flatter yourself, that I wait- 
ed for your consent to accept fhe invitation. I must 


be ignorant indeed not to know, that the duchess, 
ever since you met, has been most politickly employ- 
ed in increasing those forces, and sharpening those 
arms with which she subdued you at first, and to 
which, the braver and the wiser you grow, you will 
more and more submit. Thus I knew myself on 
th^ secure side, and it was a mere piece of good 
manners to insert that clause, of which you have 
taken the advantage. But as I cannot forbear in« 
forming your grace that the duchess's great secret 
in ber art of government, has been to reduce both 
your wills into one ; so I am content, in due observ- 
ance to the forms of the world, to return my most 
humble thanks to your grace for so great a favour 
as you are pleased to offer me, and which nothing 
but impossibilities shall prevent me from receiving, 
since I am, with the greatest reason, truth, and re- 
spect, my lord, your grace's most obedient, &c. 


I have consulted all the learned in occult sciences 
of my acquaintance, and have sat up eleven nights 
to discover the meaning of those two hieroglyphical 
lines in your grace's hand at the bottom of the last 
Amesbury letter, but all in vain. Only it is agreed, 
that the language is Coptic, and a very profound 
Behmist assures me, the style is poetic, containing 
an invitation from a very great person of the female 
sex, to a strange kind of man whom she never saw, 
and this is all I can find, which after so many for- 
mer invitations, will ever confirm me in that re- 
spect, wherewith I am. Madam, your Grace's most 
obedient, &c. 

JoN, Swift. 

436 Epistolary correspondbhck» 


Hampton Conrt, Sept 35, 1731* 

You seem to think that you have a natural right 
to abuse me, because • I am a woman, and a cour- 
tier. I have taken it as a woman and as a courtier 
ought, with great resentment, and a determined re- 
solution of revenge. The number of letters that 
have been sent, and thought by many to be yours, 
(and thank God they were all silly ones) has been a 
fair field to execute it. Think of my joy to hear 
you suspected of folly ; think of my pleasure when 
I entered the list for your justification ! Indeed I 
was a little disconcerted to find Mr Pope took the 
same side ; for I would have had the man of wit, 
the dignified divine, the Irish drapier, have found 
no friend but the silly woman and the courtier. 
Could I have preserved myself alone in the list, I 
should not have despaired, that this monitor of 
princes, this Irish patriot, this excellent man at 
speech and pen, should have closed the scene un- 
der suspicion of having a violent passion for Mrs 
Barber; and Lady M — t or Mrs Haywood J have 
writ the progress of it. Now, to my mortification 
I find every body inclined to think you had no hand 


* This is a spirited answer, somewhat in the tone of recrimi- 
nation, to two or thrfe letters which the Dean had written to her 
with some asperity. The last respected the alleged forged latter 
to the Queen in behalf of Mrs Barber. 

+ Lady Mary Wortley Montague perhaps. 

:{: Mrs Haywood^ a well known writer of icandal in no* 
▼els.— U« 


in writing those letters ; but I every day thank Pro* 
vidence that there is an epitaph in St Patrick's ca- 
thedral, * that will be a lasting monument of your 
imprudence. I cherish this extremely; for, say 
what you can to justify it, I am convinced /shall 
as easily argue the world into the belief of a cour- 
tier's sincerity, as you (with all your wit and elo- 
quence) will be able to convince mankind of the 
prudence of that action. I expect to hear if peace 
shall ensue, or war continue between us. If I know 
but little of the art of war, yet you see 1 do not 
want courage ; and that has made many an igno- 
rant soldier fight successfully. Besides, I have a 
numerous body of light armed troops to bring into 
the field, who, when single, may be as inconsider- 
able as a Lilliputian, yet ten thousand of them em- 
barrassed Captain Gulliver. If you send honour- 
able articles, they shall be signed. I insist that you 
own that you have been unjust to me; for 1 have 
never forgot you ; for, I have made others send my 
compliments, because I was not able to write my- 
self. If I cannot justity the advice I gave you, from 
the success of it, I gave you my reasons for it : and 
it was your business to have judged of my capacity, 
by the solidity of my arguments. If the principle 
was false, you ought not to have acted upon it. So 
you have been only the dupe of your own ill judg- 
ment, and not my falsehood. Am i to senri back 
the crown and the plaid, well packed up, in my own 
Character? f ^r am I to follow my own inclination. 

* On the Duke of Schomberg, often mentioned in this corres- 
pondence. It contains S'ime strong reflections on the duke's de« 
scendants. See Vol. XLV. p 378. 

f A character which she had, doubtless, some reason to resent, 
S^lthough it was drawn in the meridian of her foriooe^ whea tt^ 


and continue very truly and very much your hum* 
ble servant, 

H. Suffolk. 


[July 17Sa.i 
I RECEIVED your packet at least two months ago, 
and took all this time not only to consider it mature- 

Dean had expectations from her ioflnenoe cm G%j*b behall^ aad 
perhaps on his owo. Ladj Saffoik told Lord Oxford, th^t she 
could contrast it with one of a more fa?onrable complexion, 
which she had m the Dean's own hand. For that here alladed 
to, see Vol. ilk. p. 485. The Lillipntian crown and phud were 
presents from the Dean. 

* Mr Wogan, a gentleman of an ancient and good fiunilj in 
Ireland, sent a present of a cask of Spanish Cassdia wine to the 
Dean, also a green Telvet bag, with gold and silk strings, in which 
were enclosed, a paraphrase in Miltonic rerse, on the seven peni- 
tential psalms of DaTid, and sereral ori^^nal pieces in ? erse and 
prose, particularly the Adventarcs of Eugenius ; and an Account 
of the Courtship and Marriage of the ChcTalier to the Princess 
Sobieski, wherein he represents himself to hare been a principal 
negotiator ; it was written in the nord style, but a little heavily. 
Bis letter to the Dean contained also remarks on the Bc^ggar's 
Opera, in which he censures the taste of the people of England 
and Ireland ; and concluded with paying the Dean the compile 
ment of entreating him to correct his writings. The Dean re- 
ceiving them about the time (1732) Mr Pilkington was coming 
to London as chaplain to Alderman Barber, he put them into 
Mr Pilkington's hands, to look over at^is leisure; but quickly 
recalled them into his own custody. See Pilkington's Memoirs, 
Vol. 111. p. 168. They were afterward in possession of Deanc 
Swift, Esq. This Mr Mfogan was a gentleman of great brarery 
and courage, and distinguished himself in several battles and 
sieges. Be was appointed, by the Cheralier de St George, in 
the year 1718, to take the Princess Sobieski (gnuid.daaghter of 


ly myself, but to show it to the few judicious friends 
I have in this kingdom. We all agreed that the 
writer was a scholar, a man of genius and of honour. 
We guessed him to have been bora in this country 
from some passages ; but not from the style, which 
we were surprised to find so correct, in an exile, a 
soldier, and a native of Ireland. The history of 
yourself, although part of it be employed in your 
praise and importance, we did not dislike, because 
your intention was to be wholly unknown ; which 
circumstance exempts you from any charge of va- 
nity. However, although I am utterly ignorant of 
present persons and things, I have made a shift, by 
talking in general with some persons, to find out 
your name, your employments, and some of your 
actions, with the addition of such a character as 
would give full credit to more than you have said 
(I mean of yourself) in the dedicatory epistle. 

You will pardon a natural curiosity on this occa- 
sion, especially when I began with so little, that I 
did not so much as untie the strings of the bag for 
five days after I received it; concluding it must 
come from some Irish friar in Spain, filled with mo- 

tbe famous James Sobieski, King of Poland, -who raised the siege 
of Vienna,) to whom he was married by proxy in Poland : who^ 
in her journey to Rome, was, by order of the imperial court, 
made a prisoner in Tyrol, and closely confined in the castle of 
Inspruck for some time, when Mr Wogan undertook to set her 
at liberty, and bring her safe to Rome, which he effectually per- 
formed, by carrying her through all the guards : for which dan- 
gerous and gallant serTice be was made a Roman knight, an ho- 
nour that was not conferred on a foreigner for many centuries 
before. This genUeman soon' after went into the serrico of 
Spain, where he got a go?ernment and other military commands, 
and distinguished himself in many engagements, being well known 
all OTcr Europe by th« name of CheTalier, or Sir Charles Wo« 


nastic speculations, of which I have seen some in 
my life ; little expecting a history, a dedication, a 
poetical translation of the penitential psalms, Latin 
poems, and the like, and all from a soldier. In these 
kingdoms, you would be a most unfashionable mili- 
tary man, among troops where the least pretension 
to learning, or piety, or common morals, would en- 
danger the owner to be cashiered. Although I have 
no great regard for your trade, from the judgment 
I make of those wh(> profess it in^these kingdoms, 
yet I cannot but highly esteem those gentlemen of 
Ireland, who, with all the disadvantages of being 
exiles and strangers, have been able to distinguish 
themselves by their valour and conduct in so many 
parts of Europe, I think, above all other nations ; 
which ought to make the English ashamed of the 
reproache- they ca^t on the ignorance, the dulness, 
and the want of courage, in the Irish natives; those 
detects, w er^ver they happen, arising only from 
the poverty and slavery they suffer from their in- 
human neighbours, and the base corrupt spirits of 
too many of the chief gentry, &c By such events 
as these, the very Grecians are grown slavish, igno- 
rant, and superstitious. I do assert, that from seve- 
ral experiments I have made in travelling over both 
kingdoms, I have found the poor cottagers here, 
who could speak our language, to have a much bet- 
ter natural taste for good sense, humour, and rail- 
lery, than ever I observed among people of the like 
sort in England. But the millions of oppressions 
they lie under, the tyranny of their landlords, the 
ridiculous zeal of their priests, and the general mi- 
sery of the whole nation, have been enough to damp 
the best spirits under the sun. I return to your 



Two or three poetical friends of mine have read 
your poems with very good approbation ; yet we a;U 
agree some corrections may be wanting, and at the 
same time we are at a loss how to venture on such 
a work. One gentleman of your own country, name» 
and Tamil V) who could do it best, is a little too lazy; 
but, however, something shall be done, and submit- 
ted to you. 1 have been only a man of rhymes, 
and that upon trifles ; never having written serious 
couplets in my life; yet never any without a moral 
view. However, as an admirer of Milton, I will 
read yours as a iritic, and make objections where I 
find any thing that should be changed. Your di- 
rections about publishing the epistle and the poetiy 
will be a point of some difficulty. They cannot be 
printed here with the least profit to the author's 
friends in distress. Dublin booksellers have not the 
least notion of paying for a copy. Sometimes things 
are printed here by subscription ; but they go on 
so heavily, that few or none make it turn to ac- 
count. In London, it is otherwise ; but even there 
the authors must be in vogue, or, if not known, be 
discovered by the style ; or the work must be some- 
thing that hits the taste of the public, or what is re- 
commended by the presiding men of genius. 

When Milton first published his famous poem, 
the first edition was very long going off j few either 
read, liked, or understood it ; and it gained ground 
merely by its merit. Nothing but an uncertain state 
of my health (caused by a disposition to giddiness, 
which, although less violent, is more constant) could 
have prevented my passing this summer into £ng-» 
land to see my friends, who hourly have expected 
xne ; in that case I could have managed this afiair 
inyself, and would have readily consented that i;ny 


tiame should. have stood at length before youc epis- 
tle ; and by the caprice of the world, that circum- 
stance might have been of use to make the thing 
knowa ; and consequently better answer the chari- 
table part of your design, by inciting people's cu- 
riosity. And in such a case, I would have writ a 
short acknowledgment of your letter, and published 
it in the next page after your epistle ; but giving 
you no name, nor confessing my conjecture of it 
This scheme I am still upon, as spon as my health 
permits me to return to England. 

As I am conjectured to have generally dealt in 
raillery and satire, both iti prose and verse, if that 
ccojecture be right, although such an opinion has 
been an absolute bar to my rising in the world; 
yet that v^ry world, must suppose that I followed 
what I thought to be my talent; and. charitable 
people will suppose I liad a design to* laugh the fol- 
lies of mankind out of countenance, and as often to 
lash the vices out of practice. And then it will be 
natural to conclude, that I have some partiality for 
such kind of writing, and favour it in others. I 
think you acknowledge, that in some time of your 
life, you turned to th» rallying part ; but L find at 
present your genius runs wholly into the grave and 
sid[>lime ; and therefore I find yon less indulgent to 
my way by your dislike of the Beggar's Opera, 
in the persons particularly of Polly Peachum and 
Macheath : whereas we think it a very severe sa- 
tire upon the most pernicious villanies of mankind. 
And so you are in danger of quarrelling with the 
sentiments of Mr Pope, Mr Gay the author, Dr 
Arbuthnot, myself, Dr Young, and all the brethren 
whom we own. Dr Young is the gravest among 
XiSj and yet his satires have many miitturea of i^arp 


raillery. * At the same time you judge very truly, 
that the taste of England is infamously corrupted 
by shoals of wretches who write for their bread; 
and therefore I had reason to put Mr Pope out writ- 
ing the poem, called the Dunciad ; and to h^h those 
scoundrels out of their obscurity by telling jtheir 
names at len^h, their woriks> their adventures^ some- 
times their lodgings^ and their lineage; not mXhA's 
and B*8 according to the old way, which would be 
unknown in a few years. 

As to your blank verse, it has too often fallen into 
the same vile hands of. late. One Thomson, a 
Scotchman, has succeeded the best in that way, in 
four poems he has writ on the four seasons : vet I 
am not over fond of them, because they ar^ all de- 
scription, and nothing is doing; whereas Milton 
engages me in actions of the highest importance : 
Modo me RomcB^ modo ponit Athenis : ^d yours pn 
the seven psalms, &c. have some advantages that 

You see Pope, Gay, and I, use all our endea- 
vours to make folks merry and wise, and profess to 
have no enemies, except knaves and fools. I con« 
fess myself to be exempted* from them in one ar- 
ticle, which was engaging with a ministry to pre- 
vent, if possible, the evils that have overrun the na- 
tion, and my foolish zeal in endeavouring to save 
this wretched island. Wherein though I succeed- 
ed absolutely in one important article ; f yet even 

* Tet Swift elsewhere writes contemptuously of the aiiihor of 
the Night Thooghts. 

*' So in a sawpit and wet weather, 

Let Young and Philipi dmdge togetber.*' 

f Against Wood's copper halfpence. 


there I lost all hope of favour from those in power 
here, and disobliged the court of England, and have 
in twenty years drawn above one thousand scurri- 
lous hbels on myself, without any other recompense 
than the love of the Irish vulgar, and two or three 
dozen signposts of the drapier in this city, beside 
those that are scattered in country towns ; and even 
these are half worn out. So that, whatever little 
genius God has given me, I may justly pretend to 
have been the worst mana^i^er of it to my own ad- 
vantage of any man upon earth« 

Aagast 2. 

What I have above written has long lain by me, 
that 1 might consider farther : but I have been part- 
ly out of order, and partly plagued with a lawsuit 
of ten years standing, and 1 doubt very ill closed 
up, although it concerns two thirds, of my little for- 
tune. Think whether such periods of life are pro- 
per to encourage poetical or philosophical specula- 

I shall not therefore tire you any longer; but, 
with great acknowledgment for the distinction you 
please to show me, desire to be always thought, with 
great truth and a most particular esteem. Sir, 

Your most obedient 

and obliged servant, 

Jon. Swift. 

We have sometimes editions printed here of books 
from England, which I know not whether you 
are in a way of getting. I will name some be- 
low, and if you approve of any, 1 shall willing- 
ly increase your library ; they are small, conse- 
quently more portable in your marches, and 


which is more important, the present will be 

cheaper for me. 
Dr Young*s Satires. | Gay's Fables. 
Mr Gay's Works. Art of Politics, and some 

Mr Pope's Works. other trifles in verse. 

Pope's Duuciad. &c. 



Dablin, Oct. 3, 1731. 

I USUALLY write to friends after a pause of a few 
weeks, that I may not interrupt them in better com- 
pany, better thoughts, and better diversions. I be- 
lieve, I have told you of a great man, who said to 
me, that he never once in his life received a good 
letter from Ireland : for which there are reasons 
enough without aiTronting our understandings. For 
there is not one person out of this country, who re- 
gards any events that pass here, unless he has an 
estate or employment. I cannot tell that you or I 
ever gave the least provocation to the present mi- 
nistry, and much less to the court ; and yet I am 
ten times more out of favour than you. For my 
own part, I do not see the politic* of opening com- 
mon letters, directed to persons generally known : 
for a man's understanding would be very weak to 
convey secrets by the post, if he knew any, which, 
I declare, I do not : and besides, I think the world 
is already so well informed by plain events, that I 

* A Gallicism for policy* 



question whether the ministers have any secrets at 
all. Neither would I be under any apipr^hension 
if a letter should be sent me full of treason ; because 
I cannot hitidefr people from writing what- they 
please, nor sending it to me ; and although it should 
be discovered to have been opened before it came 
to my hand, I would only burn it and think no far- 
ther. I approve of the scheme you have to grow 
somewhat richer, though, I agree, you will meet 
with discouragements; and it is reasonable you 
should, considering what kind of pens are at this 
time only employed and encouraged. For you must 
allow that the bad painter was in the right, who, 
having painted a cock, drove away all the cocks 
and hens, and even the chickens, for fear those ,who 
passed by his shop might make a comparison with 
his work. And I will say one thing in spite of the 
post-officers, that since wit and learning began to be 
made use of in our kingdoms, they were never pro- 
fessedly thrown aside, contemned, and punished, 
till within your own memory; nor dulness aod ig- 
norance ever so openly encouraged and promoted. 
In answer to what you say of my living among you, 
if I could do it to my ease : perhaps you have heard 
of a scheme for an exchange in Berkshire proposed 
by two of our friends : but, beside the difficult of 
adjusting certain circumstances, it would not an- 
swer. I am at a time of life that seeks ease and in- 
dependence : you will hear my reasons when you 
see those friends, and 1 concluded them with say- 
ing : That I would rather be a freeman among 
slaves, than a slave among freemen. The dignity 
of \wy present station damps the pertness of infe- 
rior puppies ^nd squires, which, without plenty and 
ease on your side the channel, would break my heart 
in a month. 


. Madam, 

See what it is to live where I do. I am utterly 
ignorant of. that same Strado del Poe; and yet, if 
that author be against lending or giving money, I 
cannot but think him a good courtier ; which, I am 
sure, your grace is not, no not so much as to be a 
maid of honour. For I am certiunly informed, that 
you are neither a freethinker, nor can siell bargains ; 
tiiat you can neither spell, nor talk, nov wiite, nor 
think like a courtier. Then you pretend to be re- 
spected for qualities which have been out of fashion 
ever since yon were almost in your cradle; that 
your contempt for a fine petticoat is an infallible 
mark of di^saffection ; which is feirtber confirmed 
by your ill taste for wit, in preferring two old-fashion- 
ed poets before Duck or Gibber. Besides, you spell 
in such a manner as no court lady can read, and 
write in such aa old-fashioned stvle, as none of them 
can understand. You need not be in pain about 
Mr Gay's stock of health. I promise you he will 
spend it all upon laziness, and run deep in debt by 
a winter's repose in town ; therefore I entreat your 
grace will order him to move his chops less, and his 
legs more, for the six cold months,^ else he will 
spend all his money in physic and coach-hire. I 
am in much perplexity about your grace's decla- 
ration of the manner in which you dispose what 
you call your love and respect, which, you say, 
are not paid to merit, but to your own humour. 
Now, m^dam, my misfortune is, th^t I have nothing 
to plead but abundance of mei\' ; and there goes an 
ugly observation, that the humo^ir of ladies is apt to 
change. Now, madam, if I should go to Amesbury 
with a great load of merit, and your grace happen 
to be out of humour, and will not purchase my mer* 


chandise at the price of your respect, the goods may 
be damaged, and nobody else will take them off my 
bands. Besides, you have declared Mr Gay to hold 
the first part, and I but the second ; which is hard 
treatment, since I shall be the newest acquaintance 
by some years ; and I will appeal to all the rest of 
your sex, whether such an innovation ought to be 
allowed ? I should be ready to say in the common 
forms, that 1 was much obliged to the lady who 
wished she could give the best living, &c. if I did 
not vehemently suspect it was the very same lady 
who spoke many things to me in the same style, 
and also with regard to the gentleman at your el- 
bow when you writ, whose dupe he was, as well as 
of her waiting- woman ; but they were both arrant 
knaves, as I told him and a third friend, though they 
will not believe it to this day. I desire to present 
my most humble respects to my lord duke, and with 
my heartiest prayer for the prosperity of the whole 
family, remain your Grace's, &c. 

Jon. Swift. 


October 20, 173U 

Your ladyship's last letter made me a little grave, 
and in going to answer it, I was in danger of lean- 
ing on my elbow (I mean my left elbow,) to consi- 
der what I should write; which posture I never 
used, except when I was under a necessity of writ- 
ing to fools, or lawyers, or 'ministers of state; where 
I am to consider what is to be said. But as I write 
to a person whom I esteem, I am in no pain at all. 




It would be an injury to you or Mr Pope, to 
give thanks to either of you for justifying me about 
those letters sent to the queen, because to think me 
guilty would disgrace your understandings ; and as 
he is my best friend, so your ladyship owes me no 
malice, except that of raillery ; and good raillery is 
always sincere. And if her majesty were deceived, 
it would lessen my opinion of her judgment ; which 
would no otherwise affect me, than by making me 
sorry upon her own account. But what your lady- 
ship would have me discover, through all your re* 
fined civilities, is my great imprudence in ordering 
that monument to be fixed in my cathedral. * I shall 
not trouble you with a long story — ^but if ever a nu- 
merous venerable body ol dignified clergymen had 
reason to complain of the^highest repeated indignity, 
in return of the greatest honour offered by them^ to 
persons they were wholly strangers to, then my 
chapter is not to be blamed, nor I, who proposed 
the matter to them : which, however, I could have 
done by my own authority, but rather chose it 
should be the work of us all. And I will confess it 
was upon their advice that I omitted the only two 
passages which had much bitterness in them ; f and 
which a bishop here, one after your own hearty 
blamed me very much for leaving out ; declaring 
that the treatment given us by the Schomberg family 
deserved a great deal worse. Indeed, madam, I 
shall not attempt to convince England pf any thing 
that relates to this kingdom. The drapier, whom 

* That of the Duke of Schomberg. 

f Those, doubtless, which declare the monument to hare • been 
erected by the dean and chapter, after repeated but fruitless ap* 
plications to the duke's relations. The epita{A originally coo* 
eluded thus : ^^ Saltern ut sciat Tiator indignabundu8| quali in ceU 
lula tanti dnctoris cineres delitescunt.*' 

VOL. XVII. pf 


yoa mention, could not do it in relation to the half- 
pence. Neither can the parliament here convince 
you that we ought not to be just now in so miserable 
condition in every article of distress. Why should 
the Schomberg family be so uneasy at a thing they 
were so long warned of, and were told they might 
prevent for fifty pounds? But here I wish your 
ladj'-ship would put the queen in mind of w^hat 
passed between her majesty and me, upon the sub- 
ject of Ireland, when she was Princess of Wales, 
and appeared so much to pity this distressed king- 
dom, and gave me leave to write to her if ever I 
should live to see her queen ; that she would answer 
my letter, and promised, that in such a case she 
would use all her credit to relieve it. Whereupon I 
desired Dr Arbulhnot, who was present, to be wit- 
ness of what she said; and her majesty confirmed it. 

I will not ask what the event has been. If any 

state scribble writ here should happen to reach Lon- 
don, I entreat your ladyship would continue to do 
me the justice of believing my innocence, because I 
lately assured the Duke of Dorset that I would never 
have a hand in any such thing. But I gave him 
my reason before his secretary ; that looking upon 
this kingdom's condition as absolutely desperate, I 
would not prescribe a dose to the dead. Some parts 
of your letter I do not understand. Mrs Barber 
was recommended to me by Dr Delany, who is 
now in London, and whom 1 once presented to you 
at Marble-hill. She seems to be a woman of piety 
and genius; and though I never visited her in my 
life, yet was I <)isposed to do her good offices on the 
doctor's account, and her own good character. By 

Lady M I cannot guess whom you mean. Mrs 

Haywood I Rave heard of as a stupid, infamous, 
scribbling woman, but have not seen any of her pro^ 


diictions. And now, Madam, I utterly acquit youf 
ladyship of all things that may concern me, except 
your good opinion, atid that very little share I can 
pretend to in your memory. I never knew a lady 
who had so many qualities to beget esteem ; but how 
you act as a friend, is out of my way to judge. As 
to the queen, whom I never offended, since it would 
be presumption in me to imagine I ever came volun- 
tarily into her thoughts, so it must be a. mortification 
to think, when I happen to be named in her pre- 
sence it is usually to my disadvantage. I remember 
to have once told her majesty, how hard a thing it 
was, that when a prince, or great minister, had 
once received an ill impression of any person, al- 
though from the most false information, although 
the prince were demonstrably convinced of the per- 
son's innocence, yet the impression still continued; 
and her majesty condemned the severity of such a 
proceeding. I had said the same thing before to Sir 
R. Walpole; who, upon reporting it to others, was 
pleased to give it a turn that I did not deserve. I 
remember the plaid, but I forgot the crown, and 
the meaning of it. If you had thought fit to have 
sent me as much of the plaid, as would have made 
me a morning-cap, before it fell to the share of the 
lowest of your women, I should have been proud 
that my head should have worn your livery. But 
if you are weary of your character, it must lie upon 
xny bands, for I know no other whom it will fit. 
And if your ladyship will not allow it to be a cha- 
racter, I am sure it may pass for a prediction. If 
you should put the same fancy into the queen's head, 
i must send her a much larger character, and in 
royal paper, otherwise she will not be able to wrap 
the bundle in it. I fear so long a letter is beyond 
your mercy to forgive 5 but your ladyship is sure to 


be easy till Mr Pope shall tell me that you are omi- 
tent to receive another. I should be heartily sorry 
if your increase in honour and employment has nsA 
been accompanied with increase of health. Let 
Mr Pope, in all his letters, give me a particular ac- 
count on this head, and pray (jroA I may never have 
the least motive to pity you. For as a courtier, I 
forgive your ame endurcie ; which I once charged ou 
my Lord Chesterfield, and he did not dislike it. 
i^d you have not a favourite or flatterer, who makes 
more outward offers of wishes for your ease and hap* 
piness than I do prayers from the bottom of my 
heart, which proceed entirely from that respect, and 
esteem, wherewith I am. Madam, your ladyship's 
most obedient humble servant, 

Jon. Swift. 


Nov. A9 1751. 

I BELIEVE in my conscience, that though yoa 
had answered mine before, the second was never 
the less welcome. 

So much for your topscriptj not posticript; and 
in very sincere earnest I heartily thank you for re- 
membering me so often. Since I came out of the 
country, my riding days are over : for I never was 
for your Hyde Park courses, although my courage 
serves me very well at a hand-gallop in the country, 
six or seven miles, with one horseman, and a ragged 
lad, a labourer's boy, that is to be clothed when he 
can run fast enough to keep up with my horse, who 
has yet only proved his dexterity by escaping from 


school. But my courage fails roe for riding in town, 
where I should have the happiness to meet with 
plenty of yonr very pretty fellows, that manage 
their own horses to show their art; or that think a 
postillion's cap, with a white frock, the most be- 
coming dress. These and their grooms I am most 
bitterly afraid of, because^ you must know, if my 
complaisant friend, your presbyterian housekeeper, * 
can remember any thing like such days with me, 
that is a very good reason for me to remember that 
time is past ; and your toupets would rejoice to see 
a horse throw an ancient gentlewoman. 
• I am sorry to hear you are no wisef in Ireland 
than we English ; for our birthday was as fine as 
hands could make us ; but I question much whether 
we all paid ready money. I mightily approve of 
my duchess's being dressed in your manufacture ;f 
if your ladies will follow her example in all things^ 
they cannot do amiss. And I dare say you will soon 
find that the more you know of them both, the 
better you will like them; or else Ireland has 
strangely depraved your taste, and that my own va* 
nity will not let me believe, since you still flatter 

Why do you tantalize me ? Let me see you in 
England again if you dare ; .and choose your resi- 
dence, summer, or winter, St James's Square^ or 
Pravton. I defy you in all shapes ; be it Dean of 
St Patrick's governing England or Ireland, or poli- 

* Mrs Brent, widow of a printer in Dublin, with whom the 
Dean lodged when a jroan^ man. — F. 

+ The Dache9f of Dcnvet appeared at the castle of Dublin, 
whollj clad in the manufactures of Ireland, on his majesty's in 1753^ when the duke was a secood time lord-lien. 
tenant,— H. 


tician drapier. But my choice should be '^ the Par^ 
son in Lady Betty's chamber."* 

Make haste then, if you have a mind to oblige^ 
Your ever sincere hearty old friend. 

Lady Betty- 



For about this month or six weeks past, I have 
been rambling from home, or have been at what I 
may not improperly call other homes, at Dawley, 
and at Twickenham ; and I really think, at every 
one of my homes you have as good a pretension as 
myself; for I find them all exceedingly disappointed 
by the lawsuit that has kept you this summer from 
us. Mr Pope told me that affair was now over, that 
yon have the estate which was your security ; I wish 
you had your own money j for I wish you free from 
every engagement that keeps us from one another. 
I think you deciphered the last letter we sent you 
very judiciously. You may make your own condi- 
tions at Amesbury ; where I am at present ; you 
may do the same at Dawley ; and Twickenham, you 
know, is your own. But, if you rather choose to 
live with me (that is to say, if you will give up your 
right and title) I will purchase the house you and I 

* Ladj Betty Germaia dwells with natural fondoeis on the rt» 
ooUection of the jeaz d'^prit which had passed in the familj of 
her father, Lord Berkeley, when Swift was his chaplain* She 
alludes to them in most of her letters. 

f Endorsed, << No date, recdfed Not. 8, 1731."-*H. 


used to dispute about over against Ham Walks, on 
purpose to entertain you. Name your day, and it 
shall be done. 1 have lived with you ; and I wish 
to do so again in any place, and upon any terms. 
The duchess does not know of my writing ; but I 
promised to acquaint the duke the next time I wrote 
to you, and for aught I know he may tell the duchess* 
and she may tell Sir William Wyndham, who is now 
here ; and for fear they should all have something 
to say to you, I leave the rest of the paper till I see 
the duke. 


Mr Gay tells me, you seem to doubt what autho- 
rity my wife and he have to invite a person hither, 
who, by agreement, is to have the government of 
the place during his stay ; when at the same time it 
does not appear, that the present master of these 
demesnes has been consulted in it. The truth of 
the matter is this: I did not know whether you 
might not have suspected me for a sort of a pert cox- 
comb, had I put in my word in the late correspon- 
dence between you and my wife. Ladies (by the 
courtesy of the world) enjoy privileges not allowed 
to men ; and in many cases the same thing is called 
a favour from a lady, which might perhaps be looked 
upon as impertinence from a man. Upon this re* 
flection, I have hitherto refrained from writing to 
you, having never had the pleasure of conversing 
with you otherwise; and as that is a thing I most 
sincerely wish, I would not venture to meddle in a 
pegociation that seemed to be in so fair a way of 
producing that desirable end. But our friend John 
has not done me justice, if he has never mentioned 
to you how much I wish for the pleasure of seeing 
you here : and though I have not till now avowedly 


taken any steps toward bringing it about, wbat has 
passed conducive to it has been all along with my 
privity and consent, and I do now formally rati^ 
all the preliminary articles and conditions agreed to 
on the part of my wife, and will undertake for the 
due observance of them. I depend upon my friend 
John to answer for my sincerity. I was not long at 
court, and have been a country gentleman for some 

Poll manas sab Iiqus darqoe dds, - 
Sive hig fig gnipite gnaros. * 


December 1, 17S1;- 

You used to complain that Mr Pope and I would 
not let you speak : you may now be even with us, 
and take it out in writing. Ifyou do not send to 
me now and then, the post-office will think me of 
no consequence, for 1 have no correspondent but 
you. You may keep as far from us as you please, 
you cannot be forgotten by xhose who ever knew 
you, and therefore please me by sometimes showing 
that I am not forgot by you. I have nothing to 
take me off from my friendship to you : I seek no 
new acquaintance, and court no favour ; I spend no 
shillings in coaches or chairs to levees or great visits, 
and, as I do not want the assistance of some that I 
(brmerly conversed with, I will not so much as seem 

t This is another hand ; possibly Sir W. W7BdhaBi*8^-»N. 



to seek to be a dependent. As to my studies, I 
have not been entirely idle, though I cannot say 
that I have yet perfected any thing. What I have 
done is something in the way of those fables I have 
already published. AH the money I get is by sav- 
ing, so that by habit there may be some hopes (if I 
grow richer) of my becoming a miser. All misers 
have their excuses : the motive to my parsimony is 
independence. If I were to be represented by the 
duchess (she is such a downright niggard for me) 
this character might not'be allowed me ; but I really 
think I am covetous, enough for any who lives at the 
court end of the town, and who is as poor as myself: 
for I do not pretend that I am equally saving with 

S k. Mr Lewis desired you might be told that 

•he has five pounds of yours in his hands, which he 
fancies you may have forgot, for he will hardly allow 
that a verseman can have a just knowledge of his 
own affairs. When you got rid of your lawsuit, I 
was in hopes that you had got your own, and was 
free from every vexation of the law ; but Mr Pope 
tells me you are not entirely out of your perplexity, 
though you have the security now in your own pos- 
session ; but still your case is not so bad as Captain 
Gulliver's, who was ruined by having a decree for 
him with costs. I have an injunction for me against 
pirating booksellers, which I am sure to get nothing 
by, and will, I fear, in the end drain me of some 
money. When I began this prosecution, I fancied 
there would be some end of it ; but the law still 
goes on, and it is probable I shall some time or other 
see an attorney's bill as long as the book. Poor 
Duke Disney is dead, and has left what he had 
among his friends, among whom are Lord Boling- 
broke, 5001. Mr Pelham, 5001. Sir William Wynd- 

VOL. XVil. G g 


ham's youngest son, 5001. Gen. Hill, 5001. Lord 
Masham's son, 5001. 

You have the good wishes of those I converse 
with ; they know they gratify me, when they re- 
member you ; but I really think they do it purely 
for your own sake. I am satisfied with the love and 
friendship of good men, and envy not the demerits 
of those who are most conspicuously distinguished. 
Therefore as I set a just value upon your friendship, 
you cannot please me more than letting me now and 
then know that you remember me; the only satis- 
faction of distant friends ! 

P. S. Mr Gay's is a good letter ; mine will lie a 
very dull one; and yet what you will think* the 
worst of it, is what should be its excuse, that I write- 
in a headach that has lasted three days. I am never 
ill but I think of your ailments, and repine that 
they mutually hinder our being together; though 
in one point I am apt to differ from you, for you 
shun your friends when you are in those circum- 
stances, and I desire them ; your way is the more 

generous, mine the more tender. Lady * took 

your letter very kindly, for I had prepared her to 
expect no answer under a twelvemonth ; but kind- 
ness, perhaps, is a word not applicable to courtiers. 
However, she is an extraordinary woman here, who 
will do you common justice. For God's sake why 

all this scruple about Lord B r's f keeping your 

horses, who has a park ; or about my keeping you 
on a pint of wine a-day ? We are infinitely richer 

♦ Saflblk. + BoliDgbrokc 


than you imagine ; John Gay shall help me to en- 
tertain you, though you come like a King Lear with 
fifty knights. — Though such prospects as 1 wish, 
cannot now be formed for fixing you with us, time 
may provide better before you part again : the old 
lord ♦ may die, the benefice may drop, or, at worst, 
you may carry me into Ireland. You will see a 
work of Lord Bolingbroke's, and one of mine; which, 
with a just neglect of the present age, consult only 
posterity; and, with a noble scorn of politics, aspire 
to philosophy. I am glad you resolve to meddle no 
more with the low concerns and interests of parties, 
even of countries (for countries are but larger parties) 
Qtiid verum aique decens, curare^ et rogarcy nos* 
trum sit. I am much pleased with your design 
upon Rochefoucault's maxim, pray finish it, f I 
am happy whenever you join our names together: 
so would Dr Arbuthnot be, but at this time he can 
be pleased with nothing ; for his darling son is dying 
in all probability, by the melancholy account I re- 
ceived this morning. 

The paper you ask me about is of little value. It 
might have been a seasonable satire upon the scan- 
dalous language and passion with which men of 
condition have stooped to treat one another : surely 
they sacrifice too much to the people, when 
they sacrifice their own characters, families, &c. to 
the diversion of that rabble of readers. I agree with 
you in my contempt of most popularity, fame, &c. 
even as a writer 1 am cool in it, and whenever you 

* Lord St John, father of Bolingbroke. 
f The Dean's poem on his own death. 


see what I am now writing, • you will be con- 
vinced I would please but a few, and (if I could) 
make mankind less admirers, and greater reasoners. 
I study much more to render n^y own portion of 
being easy, and to keep this peevish frame of the 
human body in good humour. Infirmities have 
now quite unmanned me, and it will delight you to 
hear they are not increased, though not diminished. 
I thank God, I do not very much want people to at-- 
tend me, though my mother now cannot. When I 
am sick, I lie down ; when I am better, I rise up : 
I am used to the headach, &c. If greater pains ar- 
rive, (such as my late rheumatism) the servants 
bathe and plaster me, or the surgeon scarifies me, 
and I bear it, because I must. This is the evil of 
nature, not of fortune. I am just now as well as 
when you were here: I pray God you were no 
worse. I sincerely wish my life were passed near 
you, and such as it is, I would not repine at it. 

All you mention remember you, and wish yon 

* This was said whilst he was employed on the Essay on Msn^ 
not yet published, 1731.— Dr Warton. 



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